IN   THE 


JOHNE.  CLOUGH 


NO.   

LIBRARV   OF 

Q.   ARNOUO. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 

AT   LOS  ANGELES 


GIFT  OF 

Redlands  University 


SOCIAL  CHRISTIANITY 
IN  THE  ORIENT 


Jfo. 

.,    _y^  ~v  %^~ 
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THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

NEW  YORK  •    BOSTON   •    CHICAGO 
DALLAS  •   ATLANTA   •    SAN  FRANCISCO 

MACMILLAN  &  CO..  LIMITED 

LONDON  •    BOMBAY  •    CALCUTTA 
MELBOURNE 

THE  MACMILLAN  CO.  OP  CANADA,  LTD. 

TORONTO 


JOHN   E.  CLOUGH   (1891) 

"I  arrived  in  Boston.  .  .  .  The  papers  talked  of  me  as  a  venerable 
old  man,  yet  I  was  only  fifty-five  years  of  age,  grown  prematurely  old  through 
the  burdens  I  had  carried.  .  .  .  The  house  was  packed.  .  .  .  I  told 
them  in  simple  words  how  the  Telugu  Mission  had  grown.  .  .  .  They  granted 
everything  for  which  I  asked.  .  .  .  One  year  later  twenty-five  men  were 
ready  to  go.  .  .  .  Fifty  thousand  dollars  were  given  titrice  over.  .  .  . 
Jesus  was  bringing  the  uttermost  parts  of  the  earth  together  in  spiritual  con- 
tact. . 


SOCIAL  CHRISTIANITY 
IN  THE  ORIENT 

THE  STORY  OF  A  MAN,  A  MISSION 
AND  A  MOVEMENT 

BY 

JOHN  E.  CLOUGH,  D.D. 


WRITTEN  DOWN  FOR  HIM  BY  HIS   WIFE 

EMMA  RAUSCHENBUSCH  CLOUGH,  PH.D. 

Member  of  the  Royal  Asiatic  Society  of  Great  Britain  and  Ireland 
Mitglied  der  Deutschen  Morgenlandischen  Gesellschaft 


THE   MACMILLAN  COMPANY 
1914 


COPYRIGHT,  1914 
BT  THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 


Set  up  and  electrotyped.    Published  October,  1914 


INTRODUCTION 

THIS  is  one  of  the  great  stories  of  modern  missions. 
Numerous  short  versions  of  it  have  for  years  been 
circulated.  It  is  here  told  for  the  first  time  in  full. 

During  three  decades   unusual   tidings   reached   the 

Christian  world  from  the  little  Telugu  town  of  Ongole, 

in    southern   India.      These   tidings   dealt    with   events 

^      of  a  religious  nature  in  so  dramatic  a  form  that  they 

appealed  to  the  imagination  as  well  as  to  the  faith  of 

men.    They  were  full  of  the  romance  of  missions :  there 

was  prophecy  fulfilled,  inspiration  voiced  in  song,  and 

there  was  manifestation  of  a  simple  faith  in  Jesus,  the 

Christ,  by  such  numbers  that  it  approached  the  miracu- 

,j     lous.     In  an  out-of-the-way  place  of  the  world  striking 

1     phenomena  of  a  spiritual  nature  occurred,  which  most 

of  the  followers  of  Jesus   had  begun  to  believe   im- 

%  possible. 

i  The  facts  were  simple,  and  distinctly  human,  never- 
I  theless  most  unusual.  The  mass  baptism  of  nearly  nine 
thousand  persons  in  six  weeks  received  its  appealingly 
picturesque  setting  in  a  huge  famine  camp,  where  the 
starving  were  brought  together.  Yet  not  the  pangs  of 
hunger,  nor  the  hope  of  help  could  wholly  explain  how 
the  religious  impulse  could  move  thousands  to  awaken  out 
of  the  apathy  of  their  ignorant,  downtrodden  lives,  and 
walk  long  distances  to  give  expression  to  the  newly- 
born  faith  within  them,  and  to  demand  the  Christian 
rite  of  baptism. 

It  all  sounded  strangely  like  the  early  centuries  of 
the  Christian  era.  Men  marveled  at  it,  and  felt  their 


353890 


VI  INTRODUCTION 

faith  refreshed.  They  pointed  to  that  mass  movement 
in  the  far-off  Telugu  country  when  they  looked  for  tests 
on  which  to  stake  their  trust  in  the  power  of  the  Christ 
to  touch  the  hearts  of  men  in  large  numbers  even  to-day. 

The  story  was  repeated  hundreds  of  times  the  world 
over.  Among  all  the  links  that  were  then  being  forged 
to  bind  the  West  to  the  East,  in  the  beginnings  of  the 
racial  contact  which  is  now  assuming  such  vast  propor- 
tions, that  story  played  a  part.  It  forced  a  host  of  Chris- 
tians who  seldom  thought  beyond  their  own  country 
and  their  own  race  to  ask,  Who  are  those  people  whose 
faith  in  our  Master,  Jesus,  is  so  simple  and  so  strong? 
They  thus  took  the  first  step  in  the  direction  of  that 
larger  sense  of  brotherhood  which  enfolds  all  races. 

At  the  time  when  this  story  begins,  in  the  middle 
of  the  last  century,  India  was  not  yet  awake  as  she  is 
to-day.  That  interchange  of  thought  had  only  just  be- 
gun, between  East  and  West,  which  led  the  thinkers  of 
the  West  to  the  fountain  of  the  ancient  wisdom  of  India, 
and  gave  in  turn  to  the  Hindu  some  access  to  the  men- 
tal striving  which  marks  the  Anglo-Saxon  race.  Eng- 
land had  but  just  become  the  reigning  political  power. 
Religious  liberty  had  been  proclaimed,  but  had  yet  to 
be  taught  to  intolerant  village  officials.  The  caste  sys- 
tem as  an  arrangement  of  the  social  order  had  become 
a  species  of  tyranny  to  hold  the  people  down.  At  the 
bottom  round  of  the  social  ladder,  in  a  position  almost  of 
serfdom,  were  the  tribes  of  Pariahs.  The  ancient  com- 
munal village  system,  though  even  then  beginning  to 
disintegrate  under  English  rule,  was  still  intact  and 
pressed  the  Pariahs  sorely.  It  came  to  pass  that  among 
one  of  these  outcaste  tribes  there  was  a  mass  movement 
toward  Christianity.  Of  that  movement  this  is  the 
story. 


INTRODUCTION  Vll 

When  John  E.  dough  went  to  India  in  1864,  the 
project  of  foreign  missions  was  in  its  early  vigorous 
youth.  There  was  opportunity  for  heroism.  It  was  a 
time  of  the  free  reaching  out  of  missionary  pioneers, 
scattered  here  and  there,  the  propaganda  spirit  strong 
upon  them,  their  methods  yet  in  the  making,  and  their 
problems  slowly  taking  shape.  Some  of  them  developed 
into  men  of  striking  personality — into  men  who  were  a 
pronounced  embodiment  of  the  white  man's  way  of 
taking  life  and  its  resources.  By  their  dwelling  among 
them,  these  men  made  available  to  Asiatics  to  some  ex- 
tent the  heritage  of  Western  thought  and  motive. 

Like  their  great  Master,  these  early  missionaries  had 
the  tendency  to  address  themselves  to  the  poor  and  lowly. 
Though  seldom  received  by  the  higher  classes  of  the 
Indian  population,  they  found  that  the  outcaste  tribes 
received  them  gladly.  They  took  upon  themselves  the 
burdens  of  the  heavy  laden,  and  as  time  passed  identified 
themselves  more  and  more  with  the  interests  of  the 
Pariah  classes.  Ready  to  second  the  efforts  of  enlight- 
ened English  government  officials,  they  labored  for  the 
uplifting  of  the  submerged  tenth  of  the  population. 

To-day  the  Hindus  realize  that  they  missed  an  im- 
portant opportunity  while  they  held  aloof  from  the 
Pariahs,  and  allowed  them  to  reach  out  after  better 
social  conditions  under  the  tutelage  of  the  foreign 
religion.  They  have  reason  to  fear  that  the  organic  con- 
nection between  high  and  low  has  thereby  been  weak- 
ened, and  they  are  now  beginning  to  cope  with  the 
problem  on  lines  distinctly  oriental.  This  marks  a  phase 
of  the  onward  tread  of  a  nation.  But  the  fact  remains 
that  here  the  missionaries  were  the  pathfinders.  And 
Dr.  Clough  stands  out  among  his  fellow  pioneers  in 
the  front  rank,  second  to  none.  In  so  far  as  he  became 
the  leader  of  several  hundred  thousand  Pariahs  in  a 


Vlll  INTRODUCTION 

movement  toward  adequate  recognition  in  the  social  or- 
ganism, he  took  part  in  the  reconstruction  of  modern 
India  on  lines  indicated  by  the  progressive  Christian 
nations  of  the  West. 

A  peculiar  condition  of  preparedness  was  waiting  for 
the  contact  with  him.  The  man  seldom  creates  the  sit- 
uation; the  two  must  find  each  other.  In  this  case  a 
nucleus  of  spiritual  force  of  a  distinctly  oriental  type 
had  been  engendered,  with  which  he  came  in  touch  soon 
after  his  arrival  in  Ongole,  and  the  birth  of  that  mass 
movement  toward  Christianity  took  place  then  and  there. 
A  close  relation  existed  between  several  preceding 
Hindu  religious  movements  and  the  Christian  movement 
which  spread  over  the  same  area.  Indian  religious  re- 
formers had  prepared  the  way.  Through  them  most 
of  the  men  and  women  who  became  leaders  in  the  Chris- 
tian movement  had  come  under  Yoga  teaching.  The 
Christian  propaganda  inherited  the  religious  fervor  fos- 
tered in  Indian  mysticism. 

In  more  ways  than  he  realized,  Dr.  Clough  worked 
on  the  lines  of  primitive  Christianity.  Like  the  Chris- 
tians of  apostolic  times,  he  and  his  staff  of  preachers 
simply  told  and  retold  the  story  of  the  life  and  death 
of  Jesus,  the  Christ,  with  a  tireless  zeal,  and  around  the 
personality  of  Jesus  as  a  living,  loving  reality  men  gath- 
ered in  thousands.  Dr.  Clough  had  a  singular  conviction 
that  he  was  acting  as  his  ambassador.  He  was  often 
spoken  of  as  the  "Apostle  to  the  Telugus."  In  so  far  as 
the  movement  was  a  revival  of  primitive  Christianity  it 
was  successful. 

From  the  beginning  of  his  career,  Dr  dough's 
strength  lay  in  the  fact  that  he  so  thoroughly  wrought 
out  his  own  methods.  He  had  the  typical  American 
capacity  of  seeing  a  need  clearly  and  meeting  it  promptly. 
There  was  a  boldness  in  his  methods  that  led  him  to 


INTRODUCTION  IX 

hew  a  fresh  track  off  the  beaten  highroad.  Other  men, 
consciously  or  unconsciously,  followed  him.  Students  of 
missions  believe  that  he  inaugurated  a  new  era  in  modern 
foreign  missions.  There  were  controversies  over  his 
methods  all  through  the  years,  yet  he  and  his  mission 
stood  unmoved.  He  felt  the  pressure  of  destiny  which 
used  him  as  a  part  in  some  great  design,  and  often  he 
forged  ahead  fearlessly  when  he  scarcely  knew  where 
the  path  was  leading  him. 

/"The  old  missionary  aim  had  been  to  seek  the  conver- 
sion of  individuals;  to  get  them  detached  from  their 
previous  life,  one  by  one,  and  gathered  into  churches. 
Dr.  Clough  did  not  discard  this  aim;  he  added  to  it 
his  faculty  of  getting  hold  of  men.  Early  in  his  career 
he  recognized  the  importance  of  the  social  group;  he 
left  men  in  it  and  Christianized  the  group.  Family 
cohesion  and  tribal  characteristics  were  factors  with 
which  he  reckoned.  And  when,  with  the  gregarious  in- 
stincts that  dominate  an  eastern  tribe,  they  came  over 
to  Christianity  in  families,  in  villages,  in  crowds,  he 
was  not  afraid  of  them;  he  had  become  an  expert  on 
their  social  organization,  and  could  handle  the  crisis,  t 
Clt  had  been  a  method  much  used  by  the  older  mis- 
sionaries, to  go  to  annual  temple  festivals,  and  to  use 
occasions  of  religious  excitement  to  bring  to  the  minds 
of  the  gathered  crowds  the  teachings  of  the  new  re- 
ligion. This  he  discarded  wholly  V(He  preferred  to  take 
men  in  their  own  home  environment,  not  as  detached 
units  away  from  home.  {From  the  first  he  went  straight 
into  Indian  village  life  and  planted  centers  of  Christian 
activity  there  that  grew  and  flourished  with  evident  lifej 
He  believed  in  a  large  use  of  native  agency  in  evan- 
gelization. In  a  masterly  fashion  he  picked  out  the  men 
who  rose  above  the  rest  and  drew  out  the  best  that 
was  in  them.  He  let  his  preachers  stay  as  close  to  the 


X  INTRODUCTION 

model  of  the  Hindu  Guru — the  spiritual  teacher  whom 
they  had  known  in  the  old  regime — as  was  possible. 
Always  ready  to  heed  the  opinions  of  his  staff  of  work- 
ers, they  taught  him  to  see  with  their  eyes.  On  the 
basis  of  the  primitive  system  of  self-government  exist- 
ing in  the  Indian  village,  he  built  up  a  rudimentary 
church  government.  Leaving  the  people  in  their  own 
grooves,  respecting  their  old  customs  wherever  principle 
was  not  at  stake,  he  inspired  the  social  organization  with 
the  Christian  spirit.  Therein  lay  the  cause  for  the 
stability  of  the  movement :  the  foundations  were  oriental 
and  therefore  permanent. 

That  mass  movement  toward  Christianity  in  the 
Orient  has  already  receded  sufficiently  far  into  the  past 
to  permit  a  historical  estimate  of  its  value.  The  thou- 
sands who  participated  in  it  have  mostly  passed  away; 
they  lived  in- the  faith  and  died  in  it.  There  has  not 
been  a  single  break  in  the  continuity.  The  Telugu  Mis- 
sion of  the  American  Baptist  Foreign  Mission  Society 
has  a  staff  of  more  than  one  hundred  missionaries,  sixty 
thousand  communicant  members,  two  hundred  thousand 
adherents,  and  schools  by  the  hundred.  The  "whole- 
sale baptisms"  of  thirty  years  ago  were  not  followed 
by  wholesale  apostasy.  There  was  no  lamentable  dimin- 
ishing of  religious  fervor.  As  Dr.  Clough  used  to  say, 
"Jesus  kept  them  all  faithful  to  the  end."  It  therefore 
appears  that  this  movement  toward  Christianity  within 
a  primitive  outcaste  Asiatic  tribe  will  have  to  be  marked 
in  the  history  of  missions  as  a  success,  and  will  have 
to  go  down  in  church  history  as  such. 

It  remains  for  me  to  state  the  manner  in  which  my 
husband  and  I  cooperated  in  producing  this  book.  The 
story  is  his;  the  writing  is  mine.  When  we  began  this 
book  in  the  summer  of  1908,  he  was  already  past  writing 
anything  himself,  and  he  was  almost  past  dictating. 


INTRODUCTION  XI 

His  memory  for  facts  and  dates  was  nearly  gone,  but 
that  was  unessential:  I  had  gathered  the  facts. 

My  material  was  abundant.  There  were  his  diaries 
for  forty  years,  printed  reports  and  newspaper  cuttings 
for  all  those  years,  and  many  packages  of  old  letters. 
He  had  dictated  to  me,  ten  years  before,  much  pertain- 
ing to  his  early  life,  previous  to  going  to  India.  All 
the  old  stories  which  I  used  to  hear  him  tell  in  the 
course  of  years,  if  not  in  my  notebook,  were  stored  in 
my  memory.  I  put  them  all  into  the  book,  nor  did  I  let 
them  lose  that  slight  touch  of  boast  fulness  that  generally 
characterizes  a  masterful  man's  reminiscences. 

I  had  drawn  upon  other  sources  also.  I  knew  person- 
ally nearly  all  the  men  and  women  mentioned  in  this 
story,  and  with  many  of  them  I  had  had  long  talks, 
all  with  a  view  to  obtaining  the  information  which  I 
knew  would  be  needed  for  this  book.  My  notebook 
was  full  of  the  stories  which  the  old  preachers  of  the 
mission  told  me.  I  went  over  many  of  them  with  my 
husband;  and  he  asked  me  to  put  them  all  in.  He  had 
a  great  love  for  those  men,  his  faithful  staff  of  workers 
through  all  the  years,  and  wanted  their  stories  to  form 
a  part  of  his  own. 

It  often  encouraged  us  both  to  find  how  old  friends 
were  willing  to  take  hold  and  help,  so  that  there  might 
be  neither  errors  nor  lack  of  information.  It  is  for  me 
now  to  tender  our  grateful  thanks  to  them,  especially 
to  those  who  went  over  the  manuscript  with  me,  thus 
making  less  the  responsibility  which  had  fallen  upon 
me  alone. 

We  were  always  glad  that  we  decided  to  give  the  book 
the  form  of  an  autobiography.  He  trusted  me  by  giving 
me  the  utmost  freedom  as  his  biographer,  and  in  return 
for  this  trust  I  eliminated  myself,  and  made  it  my  sole 
aim  to  give  him  opportunity  to  tell  his  story  in  his  own 


Xll  INTRODUCTION 

way.  I  had  to  think  with  him,  to  use  his  manner  of 
speech,  to  voice  his  opinions,  and  to  live  his  life  over 
again  with  him.  It  was  intimate  mental  partnership, 
in  which  he  found  expression,  whereas  it  was  for  me  to 
practice  literary  renunciation. 

He  looked  upon  the  telling  of  this  story  as  a  last 
duty  which  he  must  perform.  The  close  of  his  life  had 
come.  Silence  reigned  where  there  had  been  strenuous 
activity.  Losing  his  grip  on  the  present,  his  soul  was 
wandering  in  the  past.  The  lesser  values  of  his  life 
were  receding;  the  mountain  peaks  of  the  larger,  wider 
life  were  coming  into  view.  I  found  that  while  his 
memory  for  definite  actions  had  become  faint,  the  mo- 
tives for  them  stood  out  luminous.  I  drew  on  him  for 
the  results  of  his  days  and  nights  of  retrospect.  They 
will  be  found  all  through  the  book.  Very  willingly  he 
went  with  me  whenever  he  saw  me  depart  from  tjie 
lines  of  the  ordinary  missionary  story,  and  with  a  deep 
insight  he  helped  me  find  the  application  in  his  own  story 
to  that  larger  design  in  foreign  missions  which  must 
yet  work  itself  out. 

When  we  were  nearing  the  end  of  our  work,  I  said 
to  him,  "Your  readers  will  wonder  how  it  was  that 
wherever  you  went  among  your  Telugus,  and  preached, 
they  straightway  opened  their  hearts  and  believed  your 
message."  He  replied,  "One  thing  I  know:  I  loved  the 
people.  And  when  I  told  them  in  the  simplest  words 
that  I  could  use  about  Jesus  Christ  and  his  love  for 
them,  they  somehow  believed  me.  Whether  my  listeners 
were  a  few,  or  whether  they  were  a  crowd,  by  the  time 
I  was  done  telling  them  of  Jesus'  love,  they  believed  in  it 
and  wanted  it." 

I  said,  "The  most  thoughtful  of  your  readers  will  wish 
you  had  said  something  as  to  whether  you  felt  aware 
of  being  the  medium  between  the  Master  Jesus  and 


INTRODUCTION  Xlll 

those  people, — whether  any  power  of  believing1  was  trans- 
mitted through  you."  He  thought  a  few  moments  and 
then  replied,  "I  think  I  had  better  keep  still  about  that." 
I  had  come  to  his  Holy  of  Holies,  and  he  refused  to  lift 
the  curtain.  I  said  nothing  more,  and  saw  that  he  was 
deep  in  thought,  wrapped  in  the  mysteries  which  per- 
haps have  been  revealed  to  him  since  then. 

To  me — the  comrade  of  ten  hard,  crippled  years — he 
left  the  task  of  completing  his  book.  I  stayed  a  year 
in  the  room  adjoining  the  one  in  which  he  closed  his 
eyes,  first  in  my  greatly  needed  convalescence,  then  at 
work.  I  never  lost  sight  of  his  point  of  view,  always 
eliminating  myself,  always  letting  memory  reproduce 
even  the  words  he  was  wont  to  use.  On  the  spiritual 
aspects  throughout  the  story  I  dwelt  with  all  the  rever- 
ence which  we  human  beings  feel  for  that  in  each  other 
which  binds  us  to  God. 

E.  R.  C. 


CONTENTS 


INTRODUCTION 


CHAPTER 

I.  A  PIONEER  BOY  IN  THE  FORTIES 

II.  STAKING  OUT  THE  YOUNG  WEST 

III.  WORKING  THROUGH  COLLEGE 

IV.  THE  CALL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST 

V.  AROUND  THE  CAPE  TO  INDIA 

VI.  MY  APPRENTICESHIP  AT  MISSIONS 

VII.  THE  DESTINED  LEADERS  OF  A  MOVEMENT  .... 

VIII.  EDUCATION  FOR  AN  ILLITERATE  PEOPLE      .... 

IX.  A  CRISIS  AND  MY  ORDERS 

X.  COMING  BY  HUNDREDS 

XL  A  SOCIAL  REVOLUTION 

XII.  THE  IMPACT  OF  WEST  UPON  EAST 

XIII.  REINFORCEMENTS 

XIV.  MARKING  MISSION  BOUNDARIES 

XV.  AN  INDIAN  FAMINE 

XVI.  NINE  THOUSAND  IN  Six  WEEKS 

XVII.  CHRISTENDOM  FACING  A  NEW  PENTECOST  .... 

XVIII.  A  CHURCH  OF  FIFTEEN  THOUSAND  MEMBERS  .     .     . 

XIX.  AN  EASTERN  PEOPLE  AND  WESTERN  ORGANIZATION  . 

XX.  SELF-SUPPORT  IN  PRACTICE 

XXI.  THE  RESPONSE  AT  HOME 

XXII.  THE  END  OF  LIFE   . 


FACZ 

V 

I 

18 

28 

44 

55 

72 

92 

109 

123 

136 

159 
185 

2IO 
223 

237 
263 
291 

3»3 
326 

347 
365 
382 


LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS 

John  E.  Cough Frontispiece 

FACING  FAQS 

Map  of  a  Portion  of  South  India I 

Harriet  Sunderland  Clough 40 

Prophetic  Vision:  Lyman  Jewett,  D.D.,  "Prayer  Meeting  Hill"  68 

The  Forerunner  of  a  Mass  Movement 92 

The  Old  Order  and  the  New :  An  Idol  Shrine,  A  Baptistery    .  156 

Social  Betterment :  A  Christian  Village  Chapel,  A  Hindu  Guru, 

Village  Idols 192 

John  E.  Clough  after  Seven  Years  in  India       ....  202 

Practical    Christianity:    Famine    Sufferers,    Coolies    Digging, 

The  Buckingham  Canal 248 

Jonah   G.   Warren,   D.D 272 

A  Pentecostal  Baptism 286 

Fifteen  Thousand  Members :  Their  Church  Home,  Their  Mis- 
sion House,  Their  "Dhora"  on  Tour 316 

Dr.  Gough  and  His  People  ...«,...  362 


SOCIAL  CHRISTIANITY 
IN  THE  ORIENT 


MAP  SHOWING  A  PORTION  OF 

SOUTH:  INDIA 


OCCUPIED  BY  THE  TELU6US 


10    30          40          CO 
'Station*  of  the  American  Baptist) 
Foreign  Mission  Society  in 

Madras 


By  courtesy  of  the  American  Baptist  Foreign  Mission  Society. 


SOCIAL  CHRISTIANITY  IN 
THE   ORIENT 


A    PIONEER    BOY    IN    THE    FORTIES 

MY  birth  year,  1836,  saw  the  beginning  of  many  en- 
terprises of  a  religious  and  philanthropic  nature.  Many 
of  the  men  of  that  year  also  had  these  characteristics. 
The  Telugu  Mission  and  I,  born  at  the  same  time,  had 
similar  experiences  till  we  came  to  a  meeting  point,  and 
after  that  we  became  so  knitted  together  that  the  story 
of  the  one  was  also  the  story  of  the  other. 

I  was  born  in  a  blockhouse,  on  a  farm  near  Frews- 
burg,  Chautauqua  County,  New  York,  July  16,  1836. 
My  parents  named  me  John  Everett  after  an  uncle  of 
mine.  Western  New  York  was  at  that  time  a  new  and 
unsettled  country.  Thrifty,  resourceful  families  from 
the  New  England  States  were  emigrating  to  these  parts. 
Many  a  man  who  afterwards  did  hard  work  in  the  world 
was  born  into  one  of  those  pioneer  families  in  Western 
New  York. 

My  father's  family  came  originally  from  Wales.  The 
name  Qough  is  said  to  be  derived  from  the  Celtic,  mean- 
ing stone.  The  ancestor  of  the  American  branch  of  the 
family  sailed  from  London  in  1635,  and  settled  in  Salis- 
bury, Massachusetts.  His  descendants  had  the  staunch 
qualities  of  the  early  settlers  and  were  ready  to  fight  for 
their  country.  My  grandfather  shouldered  his  gun  un- 


2  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY  IN   THE  ORIENT 

der  Washington,  during  the  Revolutionary  War,  pass- 
ing through  the  hard  winter  at  Valley  Forge. 

Through  my  mother  I  am  of  Scotch-English  descent. 
Her  mother  was  of  the  Scotch  clan  of  the  McEwans, 
a  clan  noted  for  piety.  Her  father  was  a  Sturgeon, 
descended  from  a  family  which,  it  is  said,  originally 
came  from  Holland  and  emigrated  to  England  in  the 
twelfth  century.  One  of  her  ancestors  was  ennobled 
for  some  meritorious  service  to  an  English  king.  Two 
Sturgeon  brothers  became  famous  leaders  in  the  defense 
of  Derry,  Ireland,  in  1689.  The  son  of  one  of  these 
brothers  came  to  America  in  1720,  and  settled  in  Penn- 
sylvania. He  was  my  ancestor.  My  mother's  grand- 
father fought  in  the  war  of  the  Revolution.  Her  father 
with  three  brothers  cut  their  way  four  miles  through 
the  forests  of  Pennsylvania,  and  took  possession  of  land 
which  they  had  purchased.  The  town  of  Fairview  was 
built  on  their  property. 

Through  my  mother  I  am  of  the  fifth  generation  of 
early  settlers,  and  through  my  father  I  am  the  seventh 
American  in  a  direct  line.  Very  likely  I  have  a  good 
deal  of  the  Yankee  in  my  make-up,  and  I  am  proud 
of  it.  My  love  for  India  came  afterwards,  and  my 
loyalty  to  the  English  Government  came  with  it.  But 
it  was  all  grafted  upon  my  Yankee  instincts.  There 
was  never  a  time  when  I  could  not  easily  become  stirred 
with  love  for  my  country. 

I  had  scarcely  come  into  the  world  when  my  parents 
lost  all  their  property.  My  father  was  doing  well  in 
the  lumber  business.  He  was  a  kind-hearted  man,  and 
people  came  to  him  for  help  when  in  trouble.  Through 
loyalty  to  a  friend  he  signed  a  note  which  he  afterwards 
was  obliged  to  pay  in  full.  Everything  was  swept  away, 
including  my  mother's  handsome  dowry.  My  sister  re- 
members how  mother  stood  in  the  doorway  and  looked 


A   PIONEER   BOY   IN    THE   FORTIES  3 

on  as  the  horses  and  cattle  which  were  part  of  the  dowry 
were  driven  away.  She  did  not  blame  father,  for  she 
knew  he  had  acted  in  good  faith.  But  my  destiny  was 
changed  while  I  lay  in  the  cradle.  I  grew  up  a  poor 
man's  son. 

My  parents  told  me  that  when  the  family  physician 
saw  me,  he  said,  "One  continent  will  be  too  small  to 
hold  that  boy."  An  old  Indian  chief  from  a  reserva- 
tion of  peaceful  Indians — the  Alleghanys — was  one  of 
my  earliest  friends.  He  told  my  mother  that  I  would 
become  a  great  medicine  man,  and  ranked  me  thus 
among  the  wise  men  of  the  Indian  tribes,  who  knew 
their  hidden  wisdom  and  communed  with  the  Great 
Spirit.  He  brought  me  as  a  present  a  little  pair  of 
moccasins,  done  in  beadwork,  in  the  finest  Indian  fashion. 
I  wore  them  as  my  first  shoes,  and  learned  to  walk  in 
them. 

Evidently  I  was  a  sturdy  child,  and  seem  to  have  been 
somewhat  unmanageable.  I  would  not  take  anything 
from  hearsay,  but  had  to  test  everything  myself.  If  I 
was  on  the  wrong  track,  I  would  not  stop  until  I  found 
it  out  for  myself,  generally  by  coming  to  grief  in  some 
way.  When  I  was  about  four  years  old,  my  mother 
went  on  an  errand  one  day  to  the  nearest  neighbors, 
about  half  a  mile  away.  She  left  me  with  Jane,  who 
was  three  years  older  than  I.  When  I  realized  that 
mother  was  gone,  I  broke  loose  and  started  after  her. 
The  snow  was  deep,  and  before  Jane  could  get  someone 
to  help  her  control  me  I  had  gone  far,  and  had  frozen 
my  feet  badly.  On  another  occasion  I  hurt  myself  be- 
cause I  wanted  a  stick  which  I  saw  when  going  through 
the  woods  with  one  of  my  brothers.  I  watched  my 
opportunity,  got  the  axe,  and  started  for  the  stick.  A 
log  lay  in  the  way.  I  dropped  the  axe  over,  but  in  climb- 


4  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY  IN   THE   ORIENT 

ing  after  it,  put  my  hand  on  its  edge  and  cut  myself 
severely. 

The  stories  told  at  the  fireside  in  my  home  were  of 
a  kind  to  keep  my  youthful  mind  intensely  excited.  The 
war  of  the  Revolution  formed  a  frequent  topic  of  con- 
versation. My  father  often  told  stories  about  it,  which 
he  had  heard  his  father  tell.  There  were  men  coming 
and  going  who  had  fought  in  the  War  of  1812.  Two  of 
my  father's  brothers  had  served  in  that  war.  It  was 
then  in  the  recent  past  that  the  English,  under  stress  of 
war,  had  agreed  to  pay  the  Indians  a  good  price  for 
the  scalps  of  settlers.  Thus  my  uncle  was  scalped,  and 
hundreds  of  Americans  at  the  same  time.  I  listened  and 
wished  I  were  big  enough  to  fight;  I  would  have  con- 
sidered it  good  service  to  kill  an  Englishman. 

My  mother,  when  a  girl,  heard  the  cannonading  on 
Lake  Erie  from  Commodore  Perry's  fleet.  She  knew 
Sergeant  Bird,  who  distinguished  himself  in  that  battle, 
carrying  the  flag.  By  a  captain  in  command  he  was 
wrongfully  court-martialed  and  sentenced  to  death.  Com- 
modore Perry  himself  came  riding  fast,  waving  a  flag 
to  stop  the  execution,  but  he  was  too  late.  The  man 
was  shot.  My  mother  told  us  children  this  story,  and 
sometimes  she  sang  a  song  that  had  been  composed  about 
"Gallant  Bird."  It  is  one  of  my  earliest  recollections 
that  I  was  burning  with  indignation  over  the  wrong  done 
to  my  mother's  friend. 

Then  there  were  the  Indians  about  whom  I  heard 
many  stories,  especially  from  my  mother.  She  passed 
her  girlhood  in  the  forests,  where  the  white  settlers  were 
constantly  taking  precautions,  fearing  the  cruelty  of  the 
Indians.  Only  six  weeks,  all  told,  did  my  mother  have 
opportunity  to  go  to  school.  When  she  was  fourteen 
years  old  she  lost  her  mother  by  death.  She  then  kept 
house  for  her  father  and  took  charge  of  two  younger 


A   PIONEER   BOY   IN    THE   FORTIES  5 

brothers  and  a  sister.  Once  she  saw  a  gang  of  Indians 
approaching.  She  hurried  the  children  into  some  hiding 
place.  The  men  of  the  family  were  out  on  the  fields. 
The  Indians  passed  and  did  no  harm. 

It  all  made  me  feel,  as  I  listened,  as  if  I  ought  to  be 
fighting,  no  matter  whether  the  Indians  or  the  English. 
Often  I  made  war  on  an  old  gander  in  the  barn-yard. 
Whether,  for  the  time  being,  he  was  an  Indian  or  an 
Englishman,  he  was  always  ready  for  a  fight.  It  was 
a  square  fight  too,  for  if  I  did  not  look  out  he  caught 
me  and  whipped  me  with  his  wings.  There  was  a  big 
grain-stack  in  the  farm-yard,  which  I  called  my  fort. 
Another  little  boy  and  I  bombarded  it  with  stones,  and 
played  that  it  was  war.  But  the  day  came  when  a  man 
brought  a  threshing  machine  and  threshers.  The  stones 
got  into  the  machine  and  stopped  it  every  little  while. 
The  men  swore  and  said  it  would  ruin  the  machine.  My 
father  and  all  on  the  farm  knew  who  had  done  it,  but 
they  did  not  tell.  The  other  boy  and  I  ran  into  the 
woods  and  kept  out  of  sight,  so  as  to  escape  questions. 
It  was  more  fun  telling  about  it  afterwards  than  it  was 
that  day. 

A  neighbor  had  obtained  turkeys'  eggs  and  had  put 
them  under  a  hen  to  hatch.  His  young  son  and  I  kept 
our  eye  on  that  old  hen.  We  heard  our  parents  talk 
about  the  time  it  would  take,  and  concluded  that  the 
old  hen  was  not  doing  right  by  the  turkeys  and  ought  to 
be  helped.  We  drove  her  off  the  nest,  picked  the  eggs 
open  and  got  the  little  turkeys  out — liberated  them.  They 
stood  up  a  few  minutes  and  then  fell  over  and  died.  Our 
parents  were  ready  to  annihilate  us,  but  they  did  not 
do  it. 

I  do  not  remember  that  my  mother  ever  told  me  Bible 
stories,  or  taught  me  to  say  my  evening  prayers.  There 
was  a  Sunday  school  some  miles  away  to  which  my 


5  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY  IN    THE   ORIENT 

brothers  went,  but  it  was  too  far  for  me.  My  mother's 
father  had  held  to  family  prayers.  Once,  when  the 
young  people  were  going  cranberrying,  he  made  them 
come  to  prayers  first,  and  prayed  so  long  that  their  knees 
ached,  while  their  companions  stood  outside  waiting  for 
them.  A  large  share  of  his  wealth  went  to  his  church. 
Soon  after  his  death  the  members  divided  into  Old 
School  and  New  School  Presbyterians,  and  each  faction 
claimed  the  money  and  lands;  they  went  to  law  about 
it  and  lost  most  of  it  in  litigation.  All  this  probably 
had  something  to  do  with  my  mother's  silence  about  re- 
ligious matters.  She  let  me  grow  up  untaught.  My 
father  kept  the  Puritan  Sabbath.  If  he  saw  me  out  in 
front  of  the  house  playing  marbles,  he  rapped  on  the 
window :  "Bub,  it  is  Sunday  to-day,  not  the  day  for 
play." 

A  little  playmate  and  I  were  discussing  one  day  what 
we  would  do  when  we  were  men.  Among  other  great 
exploits  I  said  I  was  going  to  kill  the  devil.  He  re- 
marked, "But  you  cannot  kill  God."  I  replied,  "There 
is  no  God;  for  I  do  not  see  him."  My  playmate  said, 
"Yes,  there  is.  He  is  everywhere."  It  was  my  great 
ambition  at  that  time  to  have  a  pocket  in  my  jacket. 
I  therefore  replied,  "Then  God  must  be  in  my  pocket, 
and  he  is  not  there."  What  he  said  in  turn,  I  do  not 
remember.  He  had  been  taught  in  his  home.  I  grew  up 
a  little  heathen. 

When  I  was  five  or  six  years  old,  I  was  deeply  af- 
fected by  the  Millerite  excitement.  Mr.  Miller  lived 
only  forty  miles  away.  Men  were  going  over  the  coun- 
try saying  the  world  was  going  to  burn  up.  The  aurora 
borealis  was  playing  every  night,  brighter  than  light- 
ning, and  all  the  northern  heavens  were  ablaze.  In 
Jamestown,  a  few  miles  away,  a  whole  company  of 
people  were  assembled  for  days,  clad  in  white  robes, 


A    PIONEER    BOY   IN    THE    FORTIES  7 

expecting  every  moment  to  be  lifted  up  at  the  second 
coming  of  our  Lord.  My  family  did  not  join  in  the 
excitement,  but  of  course  no  one  talked  of  anything  else. 
I  listened,  and  was  much  frightened.  At  night  I  stayed 
close  to  the  grown  people  and  asked  them  often  how 
the  fire  was  going  to  be  put  out.  In  the  daytime  I  fol- 
lowed father  into  the  woods,  where  he  was  drawing  logs 
to  the  sawmill,  and  did  not  lose  sight  of  him.  He  talked 
with  me  and  made  me  forget  my  fear.  Then,  when 
nothing  came  of  it  all,  I  was  old  enough  to  feel  the  re- 
action. I  was  disgusted,  and  it  made  me  averse  to  re- 
ligious excitement  for  the  rest  of  my  life. 

It  was  about  this  time  that  a  missionary  came  and 
spoke  at  Jamestown.  He  had  an  idol  with  him,  which 
was  passed  around.  People  took  it  home  to  show  it  to 
their  families.  My  mother,  too,  had  it,  and  she  let  us 
children  see  it.  This  was  my  introduction  to  foreign 
missions. 

My  first  day  at  school  came  when  I  was  only  five  years 
old.  My  mother  sent  me  with  Jane  and  two  of  my 
brothers,  by  the  short  cut,  a  mile  or  two  across  fields 
and  over  fences  to  the  little  red-painted,  clapboard  school- 
house.  I  went  willingly  enough,  it  seems.  The  teacher 
was  much  loved  by  the  children.  She  smiled  at  them, 
and  then  they  did  what  she  told  them  to  do.  Presently 
she  called  me  to  her  desk  and  I  went  quite  fearlessly. 
She  said  she  wanted  me  to  say  my  ABC.  I  replied, 
"But  I  won't  say  my  A  B  C."  She  took  the  primer 
and  pointed  to  the  first  letter :  "There  is  A,  now  say  A." 
I  replied,  "I  won't  say  A."  Next  she  tried  me  on  B. 
The  same  answer:  "I  won't  say  B."  She  said,  "But 
you  just  said  B."  I  held  my  ground  and  said,  "But  I 
won't  say  B  again." 

The  other  children  were  all  smiling.  The  teacher  was 
too  wise  to  fight  me,  she  said,  "You  have  done  very 


8  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY  IN   THE  ORIENT 

well.  You  have  said  A  nicely."  This  did  not  suit  me 
at  all.  I  was  mad  and  waited  for  a  chance  to  run  home. 
Recess  came,  and  I  was  soon  out  of  the  door.  Jane 
and  the  boys  ran  after  me  and  held  me  by  the  shoulders 
and  legs.  I  battled  with  them  and  would  have  torn 
away,  if  the  teacher  had  not  come.  She  said,  "Why, 
Everett,  you  do  not  want  to  go  home.  You  want  to 
wear  my  watch."  She  put  it  around  my  neck,  and  told 
me  to  sit  still  and  I  could  hear  it  tick.  I  was  tame  as  a 
lamb  after  that. 

A  year  later  I  had  my  first  day  out  in  public.  The 
volunteers  of  that  region  were  to  have  a.  day  for  train- 
ing at  Frewsburg.  My  father  took  me  with  him.  To 
hear  the  cannon  booming  as  we  approached  the  town 
excited  me  a  good  deal.  I  held  my  father's  hand  tightly 
as  we  walked  along.  He  showed  me  the  horse-racing, 
and  let  me  see  the  cannon  at  a  safe  distance,  and  bought 
raisins  and  crackers  as  a  treat  for  me.  I  had  led  such 
an  isolated  life  on  the  farm  that  the  experiences  of 
the  day  stirred  me. 

I  now  began  to  go  to  the  creek  with  the  other  boys 
to  fish,  and  found  that  pin-hooks  would  not  catch  fish, 
though  it  was  just  as  much  fun.  My  big  brothers  took 
me  swimming.  One  of  them  would  go  into  the  water 
with  me  on  his  back,  and  would  let  me  slip  off,  forcing 
me  thus  to  strike  out  for  myself.  Or  if  I  made  him 
promise  not  to  let  me  slip,  he  would  dive  with  me 
on  his  back. 

The  first  public  recognition  of  my  capability  happened 
one  spring  in  the  "sugar-bush."  The  sap  from  the  maple 
trees  in  our  grove  was  trickling  into  buckets.  In  the 
sugar-camp  the  sap  was  turned  into  sugar  in  large  kettles, 
hung  over  a  slow  fire.  A  steady  yoke  of  oxen  went 
back  and  forth  with  the  buckets.  My  father  let  me  drive 
them.  The  old  oxen  knew  their  way  by  themselves,  but 


A    PIONEER   BOY   IN   THE   FORTIES  9 

I  was  very  proud,  driving  them.  This  sport  lasted  a 
week  or  two.  My  keen  interest  in  the  maple  sugar  cooled 
down  after  the  first  few  days.  The  men  asked  me  how 
much  I  thought  I  could  eat  of  it.  I  said  I  could  manage 
a  bucketful.  They  laughed,  and  when  I  tried  and  soon 
had  enough  they  laughed  more. 

When  I  was  about  eight  years  old,  a  decisive  change 
was  contemplated  by  my  parents.  Their  attempts  at 
coming  back  to  their  former  prosperity  had  brought 
little  success.  They  owned  land  in  southern  Wisconsin. 
This  was  then  the  Far  West,  and  the  federal  government 
was  holding  out  inducements  to  settlers.  Rich  prairie 
land  could  be  obtained  at  twenty-five  cents  an  acre.  My 
mother  had  five  boys  growing  up  around  her,  three  older 
and  one  younger  than  I.  She  wanted  to  settle  on  one 
of  those  large  farms  in  the  West,  so  that  her  sons  could 
each  take  a  portion  and  be  independent,  and  could  yet 
all  be  together.  With  that  idea  in  mind,  she  was 
willing  to  turn  her  face  to  the  Far  West.  Such  clothing 
as  the  family  was  supposed  to  need  for  a  year  or 
two  was  made  ready.  Everything  that  could  not  be  con- 
veniently taken  along  in  two  large  wagons  was  sold. 
Early  in  September,  1844,  we  started. 

My  mother's  ancestral  home  was  on  our  way.  We 
halted  there,  and  found  ourselves  in  the  midst  of  political 
excitement.  Henry  Clay  and  James  K.  Polk  were  in 
contest  for  the  presidential  election.  A  great  mass  meet- 
ing was  held  at  Erie,  ten  miles  away.  During  several 
days  wagons  were  passing  our  place,  drawn  by  many 
horses — one  had  twenty-four — decorated  with  flags  and 
ridden  by  boys  in  uniform.  The  wagons  were  trimmed 
with  high  poles  on  which  were  raccoons  and  bunting. 
My  youthful  American  enthusiasm  was  at  its  height. 
With  some  young  cousins  I  took  my  stand  on  a  pile  of 
stones  near  the  road  and,  expressive  of  the  sentiment  of 


!IO  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY  IN   THE   ORIENT 

the  family,  shouted,  "Hurrah  for  Henry  Clay !"  at  every 
passing  wagon.  When  not  shouting  we  had  to  fight  a 
nest  of  bumble-bees  living  in  that  pile  of  stone.  Six 
old  ganders  were  constantly  attacking  us.  We  had  to 
club  them  and  stone  them  and  make  them  withdraw,  in 
the  intervals  of  our  shouting.  It  was  great  sport. 

A  long,  tedious  journey  was  now  before  us.  As  far 
as  Cleveland — then  a  small  town — there  was  a  fair  road. 
Then  the  hardships  began.  The  Maumee  Swamp  was 
only  thirty  miles  wide,  but  progress  was  slow,  going 
bump,  bump  over  the  logs  which  had  been  laid  down, 
making  a  corduroy  road.  When  within  sixty  miles  of 
Chicago  we  had  an  anxious  night.  We  had  retired, 
mother  and  the  younger  children  in  the  wagons,  father 
and  the  older  boys  rolled  in  blankets  under  the  wagons, 
in  regular  emigrant  fashion,  when  some  one  noticed  that 
the  horses  had  stampeded.  The  fear  was  that  they  had 
been  stolen,  and  were  even  now  being  driven  over  the 
prairies,  beyond  our  reach.  Father  and  my  three  brothers 
started  out  in  every  direction  in  search  of  them.  Mother 
stayed  by  the  wagons  and  blew  a  tin  dinner  horn  every 
few  minutes,  so  that  father  and  the  boys  might  know  how 
to  find  their  way  back.  It  was  a  long  night — I  remember 
it  well.  I  was  awake,  staying  close  to  mother,  learning 
how  to  go  through  anxious  hours.  At  last,  toward  morn- 
ing, one  of  the  brothers  appeared,  riding  back  with  the 
strayed  horses. 

We  had  gone  just  beyond  Chicago  when  snow  fell. 
Winter  had  overtaken  us.  Father  went  into  the  nearest 
village,  hired  a  small  house,  and  there  we  abode  till 
spring.  A  series  of  reverses  now  came  upon  us.  It  was 
decided  that  father  should  start  out  with  one  of  the 
wagons  and  spy  out  the  land  in  Wisconsin.  He  had  gone 
a  few  miles,  and  was  holding  a  pail  of  water  up  to  the 
horses  to  drink,  when  they  became  frightened  at  some- 


A    PIONEER   BOY   IN   THE   FORTIES  II 

thing,  knocked  him  down  and  ran  the  wagon  over 
him.  With  ribs  and  shoulder  broken  he  was  brought 
back  to  us.  He  had  been  an  unusually  strong  man. 
From  the  effects  of  this  accident  he  never  fully  recovered. 
While  he  lay  crippled,  he  heard  that  the  land  in  Wis- 
consin which  he  owned  was  nearly  worthless.  It  was 
decided  to  settle  on  a  farm  in  Winnebago  County, 
Illinois. 

On  this  farm  I  passed  two  or  three  of  the  hardest 
years  of  my  life.  If  it  was  so  ordained  that  I  was  to 
endure  poverty,  perhaps  the  clean  poverty  of  pioneer 
life  was  the  least  objectionable  kind.  My  parents  shel- 
tered me  in  our  home.  I  was  never  exposed  to  the  rough 
usage  of  those  who  stand  ready  to  grind  down  the  chil- 
dren of  the  poor.  But  my  boyhood  was  nipped  by  an 
early  frost  I  could  never  again  be  like  other  boys. 
From  that  time  on  life  brought  me  work,  incessant  work. 
I  have  always  felt  that  through  those  hard  experiences, 
something  went  out  of  my  life  which  never  came  back. 

There  is  one  thing  that  I  learned  during  those  years : 
I  learned  how  it  feels  to  go  hungry.  For  one  who  was 
to  become  a  missionary  to  thousands  of  the  poorest 
people  in  India,  who  have  to  go  hungry  many  a  day  in 
the  year,  perhaps  it  was  necessary  training.  I  never 
forgot  it.  Many  a  time  when  those  poor,  outcaste  people 
in  India  complained  that  they  had  only  one  meal  a  day 
to  eat,  and  that  of  a  cheap  kind  of  porridge,  I  told  them, 
"You  cannot  tell  me  anything  about  poverty.  Porridge 
and  potatoes  was  all  my  mother  had  to  give  me  during 
one  winter,  and  not  enough  of  that."  They  knew  by 
the  look  on  my  face  that  I  was  telling  them  the  truth, 
and  it  made  a  strong  bond  of  fellowship  between  us. 

My  mother  rose  to  the  emergency  and  kept  the  wolf 
from  the  door.  Too  proud  to  tell  her  wealthy  brothers 
in  the  East  of  our  trouble,  she  found  ways  to  tide 


12  SOCIAL  CHRISTIANITY  IN  THE  ORIENT 

us  over  to  better  times.  She  procured  bran,  sifted  it, 
and  baked  bread  of  it.  Our  supply  of  clothes  was  giving 
out.  When  we  children  had  gone  to  bed,  she  mended  our 
clothes,  washed  them  and  dried  them  by  the  fire  over 
night,  and  thus  clean  she  sent  us  to  school  the  next  morn- 
ing. The  children  of  the  older  settlers  had  well-filled 
lunch  baskets.  I  often  hid  behind  the  schoolhouse  and 
ate  my  piece  of  cornbread  there.  There  were  few  settlers 
who  had  not  gone  through  times  such  as  we  were  en- 
during. No  one  felt  degraded  by  temporary  poverty, 
which  was  bound  to  yield  to  thrift  and  bounty.  Still,  it 
was  a  grinding  experience. 

The  bright  spot  to  me  in  all  the  dreariness  of  those 
years  was  my  poultry  yard.  I  was  only  nine  years  old 
when  I  was  given  the  chores  to  do,  that  my  father  and 
brothers  might  devote  themselves  to  the  hard  work  of 
the  farm.  There  was  one  cow  to  tend,  and  there  was 
a  humble  little  family  of  hens,  which  began  to  interest 
me.  I  noticed  the  fowls  of  neighboring  farmers.  I 
could  not  see  a  nice  fowl  without  wanting  it.  By  ex- 
change or  gift  I  came  into  possession  of  Shanghais, 
geese,  ducks  and  guinea  hens.  After  a  few  years  mine 
was  the  finest  poultry  yard  in  all  that  section.  The 
eggs,  taken  to  the  country  store,  provided  groceries  for 
our  table.  No  one  interfered  with  me  about  that  poultry 
yard.  I  was  a  Yankee  boy  and  wanted  to  be  boss  over 
something.  My  family  respected  my  rights.  I  took 
great  pride  in  my  Shanghai  rooster.  Some  neighbors 
gave  him  to  me  when  he  was  a  mere  chick.  I  guarded 
him  as  the  apple  of  my  eye.  He  had  a  crowing  acquaint- 
ance with  every  rooster  of  the  neighborhood.  None 
were  as  big  as  he.  We  moved  to  a  farm  about  a  mile 
away.  He  was  not  satisfied.  Before  daylight  the  first 
morning  he  began  to  communicate  with  his  friends.  By- 
crowing  back  and  forth  he  found  his  way  through  the 


A    PIONEER   BOY   IN   THE   FORTIES  13 

forest  to  the  old  place.  All  the  neighborhood  heard  of 
this  performance,  and  how  I  had  to  go  and  bring  the 
big  fellow  home  in  my  arms.  It  was  something  to 
live  for. 

As  I  grew  older  I  came  into  more  work.  One  sum- 
mer I  had  to  shepherd  about  six  hundred  sheep,  driving 
them  out  on  the  open  prairie  in  the  early  morning,  keep- 
ing the  dogs  and  wolves  off  during  the  day,  and  bring- 
ing them  home  in  the  evening.  It  was  tedious  work  for 
a  boy.  The  silly  sheep  used  to  stare  at  me  and  bleat  and 
run  around  in  stupid  fashion.  I  did  not  see  how  any- 
one could  love  a  sheep.  It  was  heavier  work  when  my 
brother  Cyrus  bought  a  plow  for  breaking  prairie  land, 
and  wanted  me  to  drive  the  six  yoke  of  oxen  hitched 
to  the  plow.  There  was  demand  for  such  work  and  it 
was  well  paid.  During  those  years  I  helped  the  farmers 
to  bring  many  an  acre  of  prairie  land  under  cultiva- 
tion. 

My  education  meanwhile  was  not  neglected.  An  in- 
capable teacher  had  been  presiding  over  our  school.  The 
parents  of  the  children  were  dissatisfied.  They  talked 
it  over.  My  parents  knew  of  a  superior  young  woman, 
and  my  father,  acting  on  behalf  of  the  school  board, 
went  himself  and  engaged  her  and  brought  her.  She 
proved  to  be  one  of  the  best  teachers  I  ever  had.  It  was 
a  happy  winter  for  me.  As  the  oldest  pupil  in  the 
school,  I  had  the  right  of  way  to  her  all  the  time.  I 
began  to  grow  hungry  for  an  education.  That  good 
woman  fostered  in  me  ambition  which  bore  fruit. 

About  this  time,  when  I  was  fourteen  years  old,  an- 
other good  woman,  the  wife  of  Judge  Farwell,  spoke 
words  to  me  that  touched  me  more  deeply  than  any- 
thing I  had  thus  far  known.  She  woke  me  up.  There 
was  not  a  woman  in  all  that  region  more  respected  than 
she.  Cyrus  had  worked  on  her  farm,  and  sometimes 


14  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN    THE   ORIENT 

she  engaged  me  for  smaller  jobs.  She  often  spoke  kindly 
to  me,  and  gave  me  presents.  One  day  she  brought  me  a 
thick  book.  It  was  the  "Antiquities  of  Greece."  She 
said,  "See,  Everett,  you  do  not  understand  this  now,  but 
before  many  years  you  will  be  reading  just  such  books 
as  this,  and  you  will  want  it  then."  Cyrus  heard  her  say 
this  and  reported  it  to  the  family.  I  went  home  with 
my  prize,  and  no  one  knew  how  the  hidden  springs  of 
my  nature  were  stirred.  I  had  been  marked  for  a  career 
beyond  the  range  of  my  father's  farm.  The  call  of  the 
world  began  to  ring  in  my  ears. 

It  seems  the  boys  of  the  neighborhood  looked  up  to 
me.  I  was  in  touch  with  their  boyish  affairs,  and  ap- 
pear to  have  given  them  sage  advice  at  times,  to 
help  them  keep  out  of  trouble.  They  said,  "Everett  is 
going  to  be  a  lawyer."  As  a  boy,  among  boys,  I  was 
singled  out  for  a  legal  career.  Sometimes,  as  my  par- 
ents sat  together,  I  went  to  them,  and  in  a  way  that 
could  only  be  pleasing  to  them  I  urged  that  something 
be  changed,  or  some  new  scheme  be  undertaken.  After 
listening  to  me,  my  father  would  say,  "Well,  maybe 
Everett  is  right.  I  think  we  had  better  do  that  way." 

Meanwhile,  after  four  or  five  years  of  hard  work,  we 
had  come  into  a  good  degree  of  prosperity.  A  railroad 
passed  through  our  land,  enabling  us  to  sell  at  large 
profit.  With  the  proceeds  of  this  sale  and  our  hard- 
earned  money  we  decided  to  move  to  Iowa.  We  were 
following  on  the  track  of  the  Indians.  Iowa  had  been 
the  hunting  ground  of  several  original  tribes.  By  suc- 
cessive treaties  the  government  had  purchased  it  from 
them.  Settlers  were  encouraged  to  take  possession  oi 
the  rich  prairie  land  now  open  to  them.  It  was  at 
best  a  hazardous  undertaking.  We  knew  that  we  would 
be  in  danger  of  Indian  cruelty  for  years  to  come.  Seven 
years  later,  only  about  a  hundred  miles  northwest  of  us, 


A    PIONEER    BOY   IN    THE   FORTIES  1 5 

the  white  population  of  the  state  was  nearly  annihilated 
by  the  Indians.  However,  we  decided  to  run  the  risk. 
My  father  staked  off  nearly  sixteen  hundred  acres  of 
beautiful  prairie  land  in  Iowa  by  what  was  called  "the 
right  of  squatter  sovereignty,"  forty  acres  to  a  block. 
Our  property  was  on  the  section  called  Strawberry  Point. 
It  had  been  named  thus  by  some  soldiers,  passing  through 
to  Indian  wars,  who  found  acres  of  wild  strawberries 
growing  there. 

When  we  moved  over  to  Iowa  we  were  quite  a  caravan 
of  wagons,  horses,  cows,  six  yoke  of  oxen,  and  pro- 
visions enough  to  last  a  year.  Again  on  the  outskirts 
of  civilization,  we  found  ourselves  among  settlers  who 
were  going  through  privations  similar  to  those  which 
we  endured  a  few  years  previously.  Some  of  them  had 
not  seen  bread  made  of  flour  for  a  long  time.  My 
mother  had  flour  enough  to  last  our  family  a  year.  The 
memory  of  her  own  hard  times  was  strong  upon  her. 
She  wanted  to  divide  with  everyone.  She  gave  away  of 
her  tea,  a  luxury  among  settlers,  and  often  she  ate  corn- 
bread  herself  that  she  might  have  more  flour  to  give 
away.  We  were  prosperous,  but  I  had  to  continue  to 
work  hard.  During  the  winters  I  went  to  school,  walk- 
ing several  miles  back  and  forth.  In  summer,  as  hired 
help  was  hard  to  obtain  in  that  thinly  populated  part  of 
the  state,  I  had  to  take  my  place  with  the  men.  Only 
fifteen  years  old,  I  did  a  man's  work  from  that  time  on. 
It  did  not  hurt  me,  but  I  think  if  I  had  not  worked  so 
strenuously  during  that  growing  period,  I  might  have 
been  a  few  inches  taller,  and  stood  six  feet  in  height. 

I  began  now  to  reach  out:  life  was  rich  with  hope. 
I  was  thirsting  for  experience,  and  went  with  zest  into 
everything  that  came  my  way.  On  a  Fourth  of  July 
there  was  to  be  a  big  celebration  in  a  town  ten  miles 
away.  The  farmers  scattered  here  and  there  were  all  go- 


l6  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN   THE   ORIENT 

ing,  leaving  only  a  few  of  the  older  people  at  home  on 
the  farms.  From  our  neighborhood  two  large  wagons, 
trimmed  with  greens,  were  filled  with  sight-seers.  One 
belonged  to  us,  with  six  yoke  of  oxen  hitched  in  front. 
My  brothers  said,  "Everett  shall  drive."  The  women  of 
our  family  had  made  a  large  flag,  which  was  fastened 
over  the  wagon  so  that  it  waved  over  my  head.  There 
was  not  a  prouder  boy  in  Iowa  that  day  than  I,  driving 
those  twelve  oxen.  Our  wagon  was  cheered  all  along 
the  road,  and  the  crowd  gathered  to  see  it  when  we 
arrived  where  the  political  stump  speeches  were  to  be 
delivered. 

At  the  marriage  of  my  sister  Jane  I  again  asserted 
myself.  She  had  been  a  good  comrade  to  me.  To  hide 
my  feelings  in  losing  her,  I  arranged  for  a  "shivaree" 
on  the  night  of  the  wedding.  I  gathered  the  lads  of  the 
vicinity,  and  with  horns,  bells,  tin  pans,  and  horse  fiddles 
we  marched  around  the  house,  while  it  was  snowing 
hard.  Then  we  halted,  and  called  for  the  bride  and 
groom. 

Always  without  fear  of  anyone,  I  made  an  exhorter 
beat  a  hasty  retreat  from  our  barn  one  day.  I  was 
there  with  my  brothers,  cleaning  wheat,  when  this  man 
came  in,  and  without  waiting  for  an  invitation  began 
to  exhort.  I  knew  him,  and  considered  him  a  rank 
hypocrite.  I  reached  up,  took  from  a  beam  a  pack  of 
cards,  and  holding  them  toward  him,  asked  him  whether 
he  would  not  have  a  game  of  euchre.  Thus  foiled,  he 
began  to  hurl  curses  at  me,  but  the  forbidding  looks  of 
my  brothers  warned  him  that  our  barn  was  not  a  good 
place  for  him. 

I  was  self-righteous  in  those  days.  I  considered  my- 
self as  good  as  anyone,  and  better  than  some  who  were 
doing  a  good  deal  of  preaching.  My  mother  could  not 
persuade  me  to  go  to  Sunday  school  any  more.  I  felt 


A    PIONEER   BOY   IN    THE   FORTIES  17 

myself  too  good.  The  Methodists  were  holding  revival 
meetings  in  a  big  barn.  Jane  and  two  of  my  brothers 
went  and  were  deeply  impressed.  They  urged  me  to 
come,  but  I  refused.  I  had  heard  some  Universalists 
talk  about  the  ultimate  redemption  of  everyone.  I  used 
to  say,  "If  God  has  any  account  against  me,  let  him 
send  in  his  bill,  and  I  will  see  whether  I  cannot  pay." 

One  Sunday  I  took  the  gun  to  go  shooting.  Father 
said,  "It  is  Sunday,  do  not  go."  I  said  I  was  going  to 
bring  a  buck  home  and  went.  The  breach-pin  blew 
out  of  the  gun,  gave  me  a  deep  gash  across  my  fore- 
head and  drove  the  powder  into  my  face.  I  came  home 
and  urged  Jane  to  take  a  needle  and  pick  the  powder  out. 
She  was  nearly  sick  with  the  sight  of  so  much  blood. 
I  had  no  pity  on  her,  and  while  digging  out  the  powder 
she  gave  vent  to  her  feelings  by  telling  me  what  she 
thought  about  my  going  shooting  on  Sunday,  and  my 
general  air  of  self-sufficiency. 

The  time  came  for  me  to  leave  my  father's  house.  My 
early  years  had  all  been  passed  on  the  borders  of  civiliza- 
tion. I  was  now  to  penetrate  into  an  uninhabited  wil- 
derness. 


II 

STAKING    OUT    THE    YOUNG    WEST 

EARLY  in  1853,  when  I  was  nearly  seventeen  years 
old,  I  came  home  one  evening  from  the  plow,  after 
breaking  new  land  all  day,  and  saw  covered  wagons  and 
some  mules  near  the  house.  Evidently  strangers  had 
come.  This  was  nothing  new.  No  traveler  was  turned 
hungry  from  my  father's  door.  His  was  squatter  hos- 
pitality, with  the  latch-string  out. 

Our  guest  this  time  was  Mr.  W.  I.  Anderson,  a 
United  States  surveyor.  When  on  our  way  to  Iowa, 
two  years  before,  we  had  stayed  at  his  home  in  Dubuque. 
He,  with  his  surveying  party,  now  came  to  us.  They 
were  going  to  northern  Minnesota  to  survey  a  tract  of 
land  under  contract  with  the  government. 

Mr.  Anderson  had  a  talk  with  my  father.  He  told 
him  that  he  had  his  company  made  up,  but  still  lacked 
a  man  who  could  turn  his  hand  to  anything.  This  post 
he  now  offered  to  me.  My  father  was  slow  to  consent. 
His  family  was  yet  together,  and  he  was  not  willing 
to  let  his  son  go  into  the  wilds  of  Minnesota  without 
some  guarantee  for  his  safety.  Mr.  Anderson  promised 
to  pay  me  twenty-five  dollars  in  gold  per  month,  furnish 
everything,  and  see  that  no  harm  came  to  me.  It  was 
a  fabulous  price  to  offer  an  inexperienced  boy.  I  wanted 
to  go  in  order  to  get  into  something  new,  and  to  make 
money.  Cyrus  put  in  a  word  at  this  juncture.  He  re- 

18 


STAKING   OUT   THE   YOUNG   WEST  IQ 

membered  what  the  wife  of  Judge  Farwell  said  in  his 
hearing  about  the  work  in  the  world  which  she  expected 
me  to  do.  He  thought  this  post  with  the  surveyors 
might  lead  to  something  else  for  me.  He  spoke  in 
favor  of  my  going,  and  my  parents  yielded.  My  mother 
packed  my  supply  of  clothes  into  a  two-bushel  bag;  it 
was  put  on  the  wagon,  and  off  we  started  early  the  fol- 
lowing morning  for  Minnesota,  then  an  almost  unknown 
land. 

Ten  days  later  we  crossed  the  Iowa  boundary.  Now 
we  had  no  roads  before  us,  not  even  a  wagon  track.  We 
picked  our  way  along  the  banks  of  the  Cedar  River,  and 
after  a  few  days  reached  our  camp.  Near  it  a  family 
of  squatters  had  recently  settled  on  a  claim.  They  had 
built  a  little  blockhouse  and  called  the  place  Austin — a 
large  town  to-day.  Work  began.  My  chief  gave  me  a 
task  of  a  general  nature.  I  carried  the  surveyor's  chain 
and  followed  those  who  marked  the  lines.  The  demarca- 
tion posts  were  laid  upon  mules  and  brought  along. 
There  were  miles  of  walking  to  do  each  day,  and  hard 
work  for  me  with  axe  and  spade,  which  I  had  to  carry. 
The  country  was  wholly  uninhabited,  except  by  Sioux 
Indians  and  rattlesnakes.  Of  the  latter  we  killed  on  the 
lines  about  six  a  day.  We  saw  roving  bands  of  Sioux 
Indians  frequently.  They  generally  appeared  friendly, 
but  the  half-breeds  who  passed  that  way  told  us  stories 
of  their  cruel  doings. 

My  new  life  had  pleasant  features.  The  men  were 
kind-hearted,  we  had  a  good  cook,  abundant  supplies 
and  enough  to  eat,  and  it  was  a  free  life  out  in  God's 
open  country.  But  I  was  a  very  homesick  boy.  I  had 
never  been  away  from  home  before  and  there  was  no 
way  of  hearing  from  my  family.  If  I  had  known  the 
road,  I  might  have  deserted.  But  the  Indian  trail  used 
by  the  surveyors  was  too  winding  and  intricate  for 


20 

me, — I  had  to  stay.  One  day  the  chief  sent  me  to  find 
my  way  three  or  four  miles,  correct  several  posts  and 
return  to  camp  before  dark.  I  did  my  work,  and  then, 
thinking  that  I  was  miles  beyond  the  hearing  of  any 
human  being,  I  gave  vent  to  my  pent-up  homesick  feel- 
ings by  crying  aloud.  A  slight  noise  aroused  me.  I 
looked  up,  and  saw,  only  a  few  rods  away,  partly  con- 
cealed under  the  overhanging  limbs  of  a  large  bur-oak 
tree,  three  Sioux  Indians  on  ponies,  war-paint  and 
feathers  on,  with  tomahawks  and  spears  all  ready  for 
the  fray.  At  the  time  the  Sioux  were  at  war  with  the 
Chippewas.  They  realized  that  they  were  seen,  gave  a 
whoop  and  galloped  off.  I  was  so  frightened,  I  ran  back 
to  the  camp  as  quick  as  my  legs  could  carry  me.  My 
homesickness  was  gone.  I  held  out  like  a  man. 

After  my  return  home,  in  the  fall  of  1853,  I  heard 
that  a  high  school  had  recently  been  opened  at  West 
Union,  only  thirty  miles  away,  and  that  two  young  men 
whom  I  knew  were  there  as  students.  Here  now  was  my 
opportunity.  I  had  been  longing  for  an  education,  but 
in  that  newly  settled  state  the  little  district  schools  were 
generally  second  or  third  rate,  and  I  was  unwilling  to 
go  to  any  of  them.  Higher  institutions  were  opened 
during  those  years,  but  none  as  yet  in  that  part  of 
Iowa.  This  high  school,  however,  was  within  my  reach. 
Cyrus  again  was  on  my  side;  my  parents  agreed  with 
him.  I  took  some  of  my  newly  earned  money  and  walked 
the  thirty  miles  to  West  Union. 

I  did  hard  work  there  that  winter.  Not  willing  to 
pay  out  my  money  for  board,  I  worked  for  that.  I  went 
to  the  proprietor  of  the  only  good  hotel  in  West  Union, 
a  retired  Baptist  preacher,  and  asked  him  whether  he 
had  any  work  for  me  to  do.  He  said  he  had,  so  I 
agreed  to  stay.  I  was  to  saw  wood  for  the  stoves,  light 
the  fires,  be  hostler  of  stable  and  barn,  and  in  return 


STAKING  OUT   THE   YOUNG   WEST  21 

for  this  was  to  be  treated  as  a  regular  boarder,  eating 
at  the  same  table  with  the  rest.  It  meant  getting  up 
early  in  the  morning,  being  on  hand  at  noon  and  again 
in  the  evening.  Soon  the  proprietor  expected  me  to 
act  for  him  in  his  absence.  This  taught  me  to  be  mindful 
of  the  comfort  of  strangers.  It  was  useful  training, 
for  later,  in  Ongole,  I  often  had  my  compound  full  of 
hundreds  of  people  to  whom  I  was  practically  host. 

In  my  studies  during  those  four  or  five  months  I  had 
a  definite  end  in  view.  I  had  taken  my  bearings  among 
the  surveyors,  and  knew  that  if  I  had  technical  knowl- 
edge I  might  rise  to  something  higher  than  hatchet- 
carrier  among  them.  I  went  straight  into  the  studies 
that  would  supply  my  need,  and  obtained  what  I  wanted, 
though  handicapped  all  the  time  by  lack  of  adequate  pre- 
liminary education.  It  was  this  circumstance,  partly, 
that  led  to  a  remark  from  the  principal  of  the  high 
school  that  "in  Clough  a  good  farmer  would  be  spoiled 
to  make  a  poor  lawyer."  Somehow  my  ambition  to  be- 
come a  lawyer  was  always  known  to  those  with  whom 
I  came  in  contact.  This  remark,  when  I  heard  it,  had 
a  discouraging  effect  upon  me.  The  wife  of  my  em- 
ployer, too,  heard  of  it,  and  was  indignant.  She  told 
me  not  to  mind  it,  that  she  was  sure  I  was  going  to 
come  out  ahead  in  the  end,  and  that  I  would  some  day 
be  a  lawyer.  I  never  forgot  how  I  felt  when  I  had  to 
fight  the  discouragement  produced  by  that  remark.  Many 
a  Telugu  lad,  in  after  years,  was  given  a  chance  to 
learn,  no  matter  how  unpromising  he  might  seem,  if  I 
saw  that  he  had  set  his  heart  on  rising  in  life.  I 
could  easily  put  myself  in  his  place,  for  I  had  been  there 
myself. 

Religious  influences  still  had  no  hold  on  me.  Revival 
meetings  were  held  that  winter.  Far  from  showing  any 
interest  in  them,  another  Jad  and  I  decided  to  have  some 


22  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY  IN   THE   ORIENT 

fun.  We  went  into  the  meeting  house  unobserved,  took 
all  the  candles,  tunneled  small  holes  into  them  at  in- 
tervals, and  filled  them  with  powder.  In  the  evening, 
during  the  meeting,  as  the  candles  burned,  there  was  a 
small,  sizzling  explosion  occasionally;  the  light  went 
out  by  the  force  of  it.  It  worried  the  deacons.  No  one 
had  any  peace  that  night.  Those  in  power  wished  they 
knew  who  played  this  trick  and  regarded  us  two  lads 
with  suspicion.  But  we  took  care  to  look  innocent. 

Spring  came,  and  again  I  joined  the  surveying  party 
on  an  expedition  to  Minnesota.  Work  this  year  was 
between  Lake  Pippin  and  Cannon  River.  My  chief  knew 
that  I  had  been  at  school  during  the  winter  and  lost  no 
time  in  giving  me  a  chance  to  apply  my  knowledge.  He 
brought  out  a  compass,  put  it  into  my  hands,  told  me 
what  to  do,  and  ordered  men  to  go  with  me  as  chain- 
men,  carrying  axe  and  spade.  I  accepted  the  compass 
with  fear  and  trembling  and  started  out  to  do  as  I  had 
been  told.  On  our  return  to  camp  in  the  evening  I  re- 
ported to  the  chief,  and  he  was  pleased.  He  saw  that 
he  could  trust  me.  The  camp  was  divided  into  two 
companies;  the  chief  worked  with  one  of  them,  while 
he  placed  me  in  charge  of  the  other,  with  about  six  men 
under  me,  all  much  older  than  I.  We  camped  together, 
but  every  morning  we  separated  and  did  not  meet  again 
till  evening.  For  several  weeks  I  gave  a  minute  ac- 
count to  the  chief  every  evening  of  what  I  had  done, 
and  showed  him  my  notebook.  Then  my  daily  re- 
ports became  merely  nominal  and  after  a  time  ceased 
altogether.  Thus  we  worked  till  winter  came  and  we 
returned  to  Iowa. 

My  family,  meanwhile,  had  made  plans  for  mercantile 
business.  They  wanted  to  open  a  general  merchandise 
store  at  Strawberry  Point,  and  I  was  to  be  store-keeper. 
I  was  sent  to  Chicago  with  a  team  to  buy  a  small  stock 


STAKING   OUT   THE   YOUNG   WEST  23 

of  goods.  Business  was  fair  and  the  prospects  were 
good.  But  the  supposition  was  that  I  would  take  kindly 
to  work  behind  the  counter.  Here  my  family  was  mis- 
taken. After  roaming  over  the  prairies,  the  confinement 
behind  that  counter  was  more  than  I  could  bear,  and 
I  longed  to  be  free.  When  spring  came  nothing  could 
hold  me.  The  stock  of  goods  was  sold  at  cost,  the  part- 
nership dissolved,  and  I  thought  I  deserved  credit  because 
I  had  stayed  behind  that  counter  one  winter. 

Soon  I  was  on  my  way  again  to  Minnesota  with  my 
former  companions  and  employer.  Our  field  began  about 
fifty  miles  north  of  Minneapolis — a  village  then.  Mr. 
Anderson  had  decided  to  place  more  responsibility  upon 
me.  The  work  of  surveying  township  and  meridian  lines 
he  kept  to  himself;  the  work  of  dividing  into  sections 
he  gave  to  me.  This  necessitated  two  camps.  Often 
we  did  not  meet  more  than  once  a  month.  I  was  only 
nineteen  years  old,  not  eligible  to  direct  appointment 
under  the  government.  I  was  sworn  in  as  United  States 
Deputy  Surveyor,  Mr.  Anderson  standing  between  me 
and  the  government.  My  official  certificate  served  me, 
twenty  years  later,  when  I  wanted  a  contract  from  the 
Indian  Government  for  digging  three  miles  of  canal  in 
the  time  of  famine,  to  keep  starving  Christians  alive. 
English  officials  then  respected  my  United  States  cer- 
tificate, and  gave  me  what  I  wanted. 

I  was  young  for  so  much  responsibility,  but  Mr.  An- 
derson was  always  ready  to  help  me.  Once  I  found  an 
error  in  the  township  lines  and  could  not  make  my  work 
close.  I  sent  a  messenger  to  him,  who  had  to  trace  him 
and  find  him  in  that  wilderness.  He  sent  back  word  to 
stick  stakes  and  wait  till  he  came.  Another  time  a 
settler,  who  had  a  valuable  farm  site,  told  me  in  a  per- 
suasive manner  that  if  the  lines  were  made  to  pass  along 
a  certain  boundary  on  his  claim,  he  had  one  hundred 


24  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN   THE   ORIENT 

dollars  in  gold  to  give  me.  This  to  a  poor  young  man 
was  quite  a  temptation.  I  knew  I  could  bring  the  lines 
to  suit  him  by  just  shortening  and  lengthening  the  chains 
a  little.  But  though  religious  convictions  had  no  part  in 
my  life  at  that  time,  my  father's  Puritan  ideas  of  honor 
and  integrity  served  me  well.  I  refused  the  hundred  dol- 
lars in  gold  and  laid  the  lines  with  mathematical  ex- 
actness. Winter  overtook  us  in  Minnesota.  Snow  fell 
as  we  turned  homeward,  late  in  November.  There  were 
times  when  we  had  to  clear  the  ground  before  we  could 
pitch  our  tent,  and  then,  just  outside  the  tent,  we  built 
a  huge  fire  of  logs  and  kept  it  up  all  night.  We  reached 
home  in  very  cold  weather. 

My  chief  told  me  that  the  work  of  the  following  sum- 
mer would  be  in  Dakota.  The  government  was  receiv- 
ing applications  from  prospective  settlers  for  claims  in 
that  uninhabited  portion  of  the  country.  Surveyors  were 
being  sent  there  to  divide  the  land  into  townships  and 
subdivide  into  sections.  We  were  to  go  where  settlers 
had  not  yet  penetrated.  As  there  were  lakes  and  water- 
courses where  our  work  would  lie,  the  chief  advised  me 
to  get  the  technical  knowledge  for  this  branch  of  sur- 
veying. There  was  a  retired  teacher  of  mathematics 
settled  on  a  farm  not  far  from  my  home,  and  I  studied 
with  him  that  winter. 

I  knew  when  I  started  for  the  wild  west  for  the 
fourth  time  that  this  would  be  my  last  campaign;  for 
I  was  not  willing  to  look  upon  surveying  as  my  calling 
in  life — I  wanted  to  become  a  lawyer.  We  pushed  for- 
ward now,  beyond  the  region  where  we  had  done  our 
previous  surveying,  and  came  to  the  very  confines  of 
civilization.  Near  St.  Cloud — a  village  then — a  squatter 
had  settled  who  made  it  his  business  to  keep  a  depot  of 
all  kinds  of  supplies  and  articles  needed  by  those  going 
further  into  the  wilderness.  We  replenished  our  stock 


STAKING  OUT   THE  YOUNG   WEST  2$ 

of  provisions  and  were  now  ready  to  move  on.  Just 
then  Mr.  Anderson  was  called  home  to  Dubuque  on  some 
business.  He  left  the  whole  contract  in  my  hands,  with 
all  that  pertained  to  it,  telling  me  to  report  to  him  by 
letter  whenever  we  found  it  necessary  to  send  a  man 
from  our  camp  in  the  wilderness  to  the  squatter  near 
St  Cloud  for  fresh  supplies. 

We  now  struck  off  for  the  tract  which  we  were  to 
survey  between  the  Crow  River  and  the  Red  River  of 
the  North.  There  were  no  settlers  and  no  roads;  we 
had  to  pick  our  way  through  forests  and  across  water- 
courses. At  times  I  had  to  strap  my  clothes  and  com- 
pass on  my  back  and  swim  across  some  river  too  deep 
to  ford.  It  took  a  week  to  reach  the  place  where  we 
could  pitch  our  camp  and  begin  work.  We  were  then 
about  one  hundred  and  fifty  miles  away  from  the  nearest 
settler.  But  Sioux  Indians  and  rattlesnakes  were  all 
about  us. 

During  that  summer  the  Indians  had  murdered  forty 
settlers  near  Spirit  Lake,  Iowa.  From  Fort  Snelling 
our  government  had  sent  out  an  expedition  to  demand 
the  murderers.  The  Indians  had  thus  been  followed  and 
overtaken.  Part  of  the  tribe  were  willing  the  murderers 
should  go;  part  were  determined  they  should  not  go. 
Finally  they  were  given  up  and  the  soldiers  started  back 
to  the  fort,  but  their  steps  were  dogged  by  hundreds 
of  Indians,  bent  on  rescue.  Our  surveying  party  had 
heard  of  the  murder  and  the  expedition,  but  we  did  not, 
know  of  the  outcome.  One  day,  out  on  the  lines,  we 
heard  report  of  a  cannon,  repeated  five  minutes  later; 
it  continued  thus  all  day.  We  knew  that  this  meant 
trouble.  After  completing  our  day's  work,  we  returned 
to  camp  and  there  discussed  the  situation.  Several  of 
the  men  were  in  favor  of  fleeing  to  the  settlements.  This 


26  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY  IN   THE  ORIENT 

was  soon  voted  down,  and  we  determined,  if  necessary, 
to  sell  our  lives  as  dearly  as  possible. 

We  prepared  for  the  night.  Our  mules  were  picketed 
around  our  tent,  as  sentinels.  With  their  acute  sense  of 
smell  and  hearing,  and  their  fear  of  Indians,  they  were 
sure  to  indicate  by  snorting  if  there  were  any  approach- 
ing, crawling  in  the  long  grass.  We  took  turns  in  re- 
maining awake  to  watch.  Revolvers  were  loaded  and 
under  our  pillows.  Morning  came  and  we  went  to  our 
work.  Toward  noon  a  half-breed  came  riding  that  way. 
He  said  on  the  previous  day  several  thousand  Indians 
had  war-paint  on,  enraged  because  a  soldier  had  shot 
one  of  the  prisoners  who  was  trying  to  escape.  They 
wanted  to  kill  the  little  company  of  soldiers  and  rescue 
the  prisoners.  The  next  step  would  have  been  a  massacre 
of  all  the  surveyors  and  settlers.  The  United  States 
commander  withdrew  his  soldiers  to  a  little  knoll,  planted 
the  cannon  on  top,  and  gave  notice  that  he  would  shoot 
if  the  Indians  came  near.  They  did  come  near,  but  only 
blank  cartridges  were  fired  at  them.  This  was  the  shoot- 
ing which  we  had  heard  the  previous  day.  By  night  the 
Indians  had  grown  tired  and  had  scattered.  The  half- 
breed  said  if  the  commander  had  fired  loaded  cartridges 
just  once,  not  one  of  us  would  have  escaped  death. 

We  worked  hard  that  summer  in  Dakota.  I  enjoyed 
my  independent  position  and  appeared  to  be  popular  with 
the  men.  There  were  fifteen  of  them,  all  older  than  I. 
They  used  to  say  among  themselves  that  no  matter  how 
hard  Clough  made  them  work  during  the  week,  on  Sun- 
days no  one  could  make  him  move.  Swearing  was  not 
allowed;  we  tried  to  live  clean  lives.  No  home  mis- 
sionary ever  penetrated  as  far  as  our  camp.  The  nearest 
church,  held  in  a  log  cabin,  was  more  than  two  hundred 
miles  away.  My  sister,  knowing  this,  offered  me  her 
little  Testament,  when  I  was  leaving  home  for  Dakota; 


STAKING   OUT   THE   YOUNG   WEST  2/ 

she  said  it  would  not  take  much  room  in  my  bag.  But 
I  replied,  "You  had  better  keep  that  for  yourself ;  you 
at  home  may  need  it  more  than  we  out  there." 

Autumn  came,  and  the  work  was  finished.  I  sold  out 
supplies,  paid  the  men  and  started  down  the  Mississippi 
to  Dubuque.  My  chief,  though  one  thousand  miles  away, 
had  felt  satisfied  that  our  work  was  well  done.  I  re- 
ported to  him  now,  presented  my  account,  and  gave  back 
the  money  left  unexpended.  He  never  looked  at  the 
account  and  took  the  money  without  counting  it.  During 
the  six  months  in  Dakota  I  had  spent — for  a  boy — a  mint 
of  money.  I  now  became  a  resident  in  the  Anderson 
home,  and  my  chief  gave  me  the  use  of  his  large  study 
to  write  up  my  field  notes  for  the  surveyor-general  in 
Washington.  This  took  several  weeks.  My  four  years 
as  surveyor  thus  came  to  a  close.  I  had  been  happy 
and  successful  in  that  calling.  It  was  something  which 
would  be  open  to  me  in  future.  Other  work  drew  me 
irresistibly. 


Ill 

WORKING     THROUGH     COLLEGE 

THE  man  who  had  been  my  chief  during-  my  four 
years  as  surveyor  now  took  an  important  part  in  guid- 
ing my  next  step.  I  had  a  talk  with  Mr.  Anderson  and 
he  asked  about  my  plans.  I  told  him  that  I  wanted  to 
go  to  some  good  school  for  at  least  a  year  and  then  to 
read  law.  It  was  one  of  my  sayings  at  that  time  that  I 
intended  to  be  "one  of  the  wealthiest  men  and  best  law- 
yers in  Iowa  by  the  time  I  was  forty." 

I  had  money  enough  on  hand  to  go  East  and  enter 
one  of  the  older  institutions  there.  But  I  had  a  patriotic 
love  for  Iowa.  It  had  ceased  to  be  a  territory  and  be- 
come a  state  only  eleven  years  previously.  I  had  grown 
with  its  growth.  I  owned  a  portion  of  a  farm  of  rich 
Iowa  land.  I  knew  that  if,  later  on,  I  reached  out  after 
a  political  career,  Iowa  would  offer  me  all  the  oppor- 
tunities I  wanted.  Moreover,  I  was  a  product  of  Iowa's 
rudimentary  system  of  education.  I  had  attended  its 
little  district  schools;  I  had  been  in  one  of  its  higK 
schools,  soon  abandoned  because  the  state  was  not  ready 
for  such  schools.  I  saw  that  I  must  now  join  the  sons 
and  daughters  of  other  pioneer  families  in  an  institu- 
tion which  had  a  preparatory  department  as  well  as  a 
collegiate  course.  There  was  as  yet  no  thought  of  a 
state  university.  The  religious  life  of  the  state  had 
to  provide  for  its  higher  education.  Each  denomination 

28 


WORKING  THROUGH    COLLEGE  29 

represented  in  the  population  wanted  its  own  school. 
Able  professors,  called  from  colleges  in  the  East,  were 
on  the  teaching-  staff  of  these  new  institutions.  To  one 
of  them  I  wanted  to  go.  But  to  which? 

There  was  the  point :  I  belonged  to  no  church ;  I  felt 
allegiance  to  no  religious  body.  I  cared  nothing  whether 
a  college  was  Methodist  or  Baptist  or  anything  else.  Mr. 
Anderson  said  in  later  years :  "Clough  asked  me,  'Where 
is  the  best  school  in  Iowa  ?'  and  I  answered,  'In  Burling- 
ton.' '  The  men  who  had  an  intimate  knowledge  of  my 
early  life  said  to  one  another  afterwards,  "Clough  at 
that  juncture  was  passed  from  one  Baptist  hand  to 
another." 

My  chief  was  a  leading  man  in  the  Baptist  church  at 
Dubuque.  He  never  talked  with  me  about  religious  mat- 
ters, but  I  felt  his  influence,  and  he  was  a  good  friend 
to  me.  He  had  a  brother  who  was  a  prominent  min- 
ister in  the  Baptist  denomination  in  the  eastern  states. 
This  brother  had  a  classmate  and  friend  in  college, 
Dr.  G.  J.  Johnson,  who,  filled  with  zeal,  came  to  Iowa, 
settled  in  Burlington,  and  began  a  Baptist  church  there. 
When  he  came  West  he  soon  met  the  surveyor  Anderson, 
who  was  henceforth  included  in  the  friendship  of  the  two 
classmates.  Dr.  Johnson  often  came  to  Dubuque,  a  wel- 
come guest  at  the  Anderson  home.  He  never  wearied 
talking  of  the  first  Baptist  college  in  Iowa,  which  he  had 
recently  helped  to  found  in  Burlington.  Mr.  Anderson 
had  decided  to  send  his  son  to  attend  it.  I  relied  on  his 
judgment  in  the  matter.  I  thought  what  was  good  for 
his  son  would  be  good  for  me.  I  requested  him  to  write 
on  my  behalf  to  Dr.  Johnson,  who  was  secretary  of  the 
school.  The  reply  came  to  send  me  on.  The  tie  of 
friendship  between  three  men  had  thus  brought  about 
one  of  the  most  far-reaching  decisions  of  my  life. 

I  went  to  my  home  for  a  few  days  to  tell  my  par- 


3O  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN   THE   ORIENT 

ents  of  my  plans,  and  brought  my  trunk.  Mr.  Anderson 
asked  me  to  take  charge  of  his  son  as  an  elder  brother. 
He  took  us  in  his  carriage  to  the  Mississippi,  bought  our 
tickets  and  put  us  on  board  the  "War  Eagle."  In  bid- 
ding me  good-bye,  he  pulled  his  fine  hunter  watch  out 
of  his  pocket,  and  handed  it  to  me,  saying,  "Take  this 
as  a  memento  of  your  faithfulness  and  my  affection  for 
you."  Five  minutes  more  and  the  plank  was  drawn.  I 
was  off  for  a  new  experience  in  life.  This  was  in  the 
autumn  of  1857. 

I  knew  in  a  general  way  that  Burlington  University,  in 
which  I  was  now  to  become  a  student,  had  a  theological 
department.  This  did  not  disturb  me,  for  I  did  not  see 
how  it  could  affect  me.  I  did  not  realize  till  the  spirit 
pervading  the  institution  had  caught  me  and  carried  me 
with  it,  that  it  tended  in  the  direction  of  helping  a  man 
to  become  a  preacher.  In  those  pioneer  days  men  felt 
the  call  to  preach  whose  education  had  not  gone  beyond 
the  little  district  schools.  They  could  give  a  few  years 
only  to  their  training.  Schools  like  the  one  at  Bur- 
lington met  their  need.  These  men  were  full  of  fervor. 
They  stood  ready,  even  as  students,  to  labor  for  the 
conversion  of  any  one  who  was  not  an  avowed,  active 
Christian.  It  now  happened  that  I  became  the  roommate 
of  one  of  these  men. 

Mr.  Anderson,  in  his  application  for  his  son  and  my- 
self, had  requested  that  a  room  in  the  dormitory  be  given 
to  us  to  occupy  together.  We  called  on  Dr.  Lorenzo 
B.  Allen,  the  president  of  the  institution,  who  re- 
ceived us  very  heartily.  I  was  immediately  impressed 
by  the  genial  kindness  of  this  man  and  his  scholarly 
bearing,  and  became  attached  to  him  from  the  first.  The 
school  year  had  already  begun.  He  told  us  with  regret 
that  he  could  not  give  us  a  room  together,  but  that  we 
each  would  have  to  share  a  room  with  someone  else. 


WORKING   THROUGH    COLLEGE  3! 

This  did  not  suit  me  at  all,  but  I  had  determined  to  stay 
and  to  like  it,  come  what  might.  Dr.  Allen  took  me  to 
a  room  in  the  northeast  corner,  on  the  third  floor  of 
the  red  brick  building  which  served  as  a  dormitory  and 
for  class-room  purposes.  The  room  contained  just  two 
hard  beds,  two  plain  tables,  two  hard  chairs,  a  washstand, 
a  bookshelf,  and  a  stove.  He  introduced  me  to  my  room- 
mate, A.  D.  McMichael,  who  appeared  to  be  a  good,  hon- 
est fellow.  But  while  I  admired  his  honesty,  sobriety, 
and  manliness  I  felt  that  I  had  no  use  for  his  piety. 

McMichael  had  the  ministry  in  view.  He  was  later 
for  many  years  a  faithful  home  missionary  on  the  Pacific 
Coast.  The  roommate  who  had  just  left  him  shared  his 
aspirations,  and  the  two  men  had  formed  the  habit  of 
reading  a  chapter  in  the  Bible  and  praying  together  every 
night  before  retiring.  It  was  a  disappointment  to  Mc- 
Michael when  his  roommate's  funds  ran  low  and  he  was 
compelled  to  leave  and  teach  a  country  school  out  on 
the  prairie  that  winter.  No  sooner  was  the  vacancy  made 
than  I  stepped  in.  McMichael  took  it  for  granted  that  I 
would  now  join  him  in  reading  the  Bible  and  praying,  but 
there  he  was  mistaken.  I  told  him  frankly  that  I  was  a 
skeptic,  but  if  such  was  his  habit  to  go  right  on,  and 
added,  "I  guess  I  can  stand  it  if  you  can."  I  proposed 
that  we  draw  a  chalk  line  through  the  middle  of  the  room, 
and  that  he  could  pray  on  his  side,  while  I  stayed  on 
mine.  We  never  drew  any  chalk  mark ;  we  were  both  too 
hard  at  work  to  stoop  to  such  nonsense.  But  there  is  no 
doubt  that  in  my  mind  there  was  a  chalk  line  through  the 
middle  of  the  room,  and  I  continued  busy  with  my  books, 
while  with  half  an  ear  I  heard  my  roommate  read  his 
chapter  and  mention  my  name  in  his  prayer  night  after 
night.  I  felt  quite  free  to  say  to  him  that  I  had  no  use 
for  this  sort  of  thing. 

I  had  been  in  the  red  brick  dormitory  only  three  days 


32  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY  IN   THE   ORIENT 

when  a  prophecy  was  passed  along  the  building  about  me. 
There  was  a  student  in  the  institution,  J.  B.  Knight,  after- 
ward a  Baptist  preacher  on  the  Pacific  Coast,  who  used  to 
see  visions.  When  I  arrived  on  a  Saturday  he  was  not 
in  the  building ;  he  had  gone  away  over  Sunday  to  preach 
in  a  town  on  the  prairie.  Monday,  after  he  returned,  he 
met  me  in  the  corridor  and  asked,  "Are  you  a  new- 
comer ?"  I  replied  that  I  was. 

"And  have  you  come  here  to  school?" 

"Yes." 

He  went  upstairs  and  said  to  his  roommate,  W.  A. 
Eggleston,  later  Baptist  pastor  in  several  towns  in  Iowa 
and  Minnesota : 

"Another  Baptist  preacher  has  come  to  this  institu- 
tion." 

"Do  you  mean  that  new  man,  Clough  ?" 

"Yes,  that  is  the  man." 

"Why,  that  man  is  not  even  converted,  and  he  will  not 
hesitate  to  tell  you  that  he  does  not  pretend  to  be  a  Chris- 
tian." 

"It  makes  no  difference,"  Knight  replied,  "that  man  is 
a  Baptist  preacher,  and  you  will  know  it  some  day." 

I  soon  found  myself  in  happy  social  surroundings  in 
Burlington.  The  religious  life  entered  into  everything. 
On  Sunday  I  went  regularly  to  Dr.  Allen's  Bible  class, 
in  the  Baptist  Sunday  school.  He  invited  me  to  this  when 
I  arrived.  I  felt  it  a  courtesy,  and  could  not  have  re- 
fused. He  was  a  spiritually  minded  man,  and  I  prized 
the  contact  with  him  as  my  teacher.  I  soon  became  ac- 
quainted with  Deacon  and  Mrs.  Hawley  of  the  Baptist 
church.  They  opened  their  home  to  me.  Mrs.  Hawley 
mothered  me.  If  they  talked  to  me  about  letting  my 
skepticism  go  I  did  not  resent  it.  Their  hospitality  was 
so  genuine. 

I  found  a  friend  in  Alonzo  Abernethy,  by  natural  en- 


WORKING   THROUGH    COLLEGE  33 

dowment  the  most  scholarly  student  in  the  college.  Later 
we  were  roommates  for  about  a  year.  He  stood  for  a 
type  of  sterling  Christian  character  which  I  thoroughly 
respected.  He,  too,  belonged  to  the  Baptist  church.  Long 
years  after,  when  I  came  home  from  India  to  get  twenty- 
five  men  and  a  hundred  thousand  dollars  for  the  Telugu 
Mission,  I  saw  Abernethy  standing  before  me,  at  the 
Iowa  Baptist  State  Convention.  Forgetting  those  who 
had  gathered  about  us,  I  put  my  arms  around  his  neck 
and  we  held  each  other  thus,  both  profoundly  moved. 
He  had  had  the  kind  of  career  which  I,  long  ago,  thought 
possible  for  myself.  He  went  to  the  war  and  rose  to  the 
rank  of  colonel;  he  was  a  member  of  the  Iowa  legisla- 
ture ;  later  he  was  superintendent  of  public  instruction  in 
Iowa,  and  was  holding  important  posts. 

I  had  another  friend  among  the  students,  Addison  C. 
Williams,  a  fine  fellow,  who  later  became  a  Methodist 
minister  in  several  large  towns.  His  sister  was  my  class- 
mate in  Greek.  I  thought  highly  of  them  both,  and  often 
went  to  the  Methodist  church  with  them,  where  they  were 
zealous  workers.  Their  pastor  made  me  welcome,  a 
warm-hearted,  enthusiastic  man.  Baptist  influences  were 
round  about  me,  but  the  Methodists,  too,  had  their  hold 
on  me.  What  turned  the  scales  ? 

The  Baptists  had  a  pastor  in  Burlington  whose  influ- 
ence counted  for  a  good  deal.  Dr.  G.  J.  Johnson  was  a 
leading  man  among  the  Baptist  pastors  in  Iowa  and  was 
a  strong  personality.  He  had  come  West  ten  years  be- 
fore when  there  were  not  more  than  a  thousand  Baptists 
in  Iowa  and  only  one  in  Burlington.  His  church  was 
now  in  a  flourishing  condition.  Since  he  was  the  origi- 
nator, and  in  one  sense  the  ruling  spirit  of  the  college, 
it  came  about  as  a  matter  of  course  that  faculty  and  stu- 
dents, almost  in  a  body,  came  to  the  services  in  his 
church.  I  was  thus  naturally  drawn  into  the  circle  of 


34  SOCIAL    CHRISTIANITY    IN    THE   ORIENT 

his  influence.  I  listened  to  his  preaching1  Sunday  after 
Sunday,  and  I  heard  nothing-  in  the  way  of  compromise. 
It  was  the  pure  gospel — Christ  and  him  crucified.  And 
Pastor  Johnson  held  to  the  old-fashioned  idea  of  conver- 
sion as  a  new  birth.  He  was  a  staunch  Baptist,  too; 
Baptist  teachings  and  Baptist  democratic  principles  were 
dear  to  him.  He  expounded  them  often  and  fearlessly. 
I  heard  him,  and  I  could  not  deny  that  if  my  skepticism 
must  go,  then  here  was  what  I  wanted. 

A  number  of  weeks  passed  thus.  Then  came  a  change. 
I  have  never  told  the  story  of  my  conversion  in  detail; 
perhaps  there  is  no  detail  to  tell.  My  friend  Abernethy 
said  in  later  years  that  my  conversion  changed  me  greatly. 
I  think  he  was  right.  During  those  first  months  in  Bur- 
lington I  was  keenly  alive  to  the  influences  surrounding 
me.  My  fellow-students  had  come  out  of  that  same 
pioneer  life  in  which  I  had  grown  to  manhood.  Most  of 
them  were  rugged  in  demeanor,  some  perhaps  a  little 
uncouth  in  appearance.  There  was  a  tendency  among 
them  to  take  undue  interest  in  the  affairs  of  each  other. 
Notwithstanding  all  this,  I  saw  that  they  had  a  motive  in 
life,  and  thereby  stood  higher  than  most  of  the  men 
whom  I  had  known  among  the  surveyors.  Those  relig- 
ious convictions,  which  I  had  thus  far  evaded  wherever 
I  came  across  them,  were  a  dominant  factor  in  their  lives. 
I  realized  that  active  Christian  experience  could  give  a 
nobility  of  character  which  I  must  share  or  fall  behind. 

It  all  wore  on  me.  The  boys  noticed  that  I  was  not  as 
light-hearted  as  when  I  came.  McMichael  was  stead- 
fastly continuing  his  habit  of  reading  his  Bible  and  pray- 
ing at  night  before  retiring.  I  knew  that  other  men, 
teachers  and  students,  whom  I  was  learning  to  love  and 
esteem  more  every  day,  were  doing  just  as  McMichael 
was  doing.  When  trying  to  study  while  he  was  praying 
I  began  to  feel  as  if  I  were  showing  disrespect  to  them 


WORKING   THROUGH    COLLEGE  35 

all.  I  had  to  yield  to  the  pressure.  There  came  an  even- 
ing when  I  laid  aside  my  books  and  joined  McMichael. 
He  and  I  had  not  been  given  to  interchange  of  thought ; 
he  felt  that  he  was  not  the  one  to  approach  me  now.  He 
went  to  Pastor  Johnson  and  told  him  how  my  resistance 
in  every  direction  had  given  way.  Perhaps  my  conver- 
sion had  become  a  solemn  responsibility  to  McMichael. 
His  earnestness  evidently  gave  Pastor  Johnson  a  feeling 
that  there  was  something  at  stake.  I  had  not  come  to  the 
point  where  I  wanted  to  ask  spiritual  advice.  It  was 
brought  to  me  unasked. 

Pastor  Johnson  was  not  an  hour  in  delaying.  He 
knocked  at  my  door.  He  found  me  sitting  at  my  table, 
the  Bible  open  before  me,  looking  sad  and  troubled.  He 
said  to  me,  "I  am  glad,  Clough,  to  see  you  reading  your 
Bible ;  I  hope  you  are  trying  to  find  the  way  to  be  saved." 
I  admitted  that  I  was  reading  with  anxious  enquiry.  He 
told  me  the  promises — "Come  unto  me,  all  ye  that  labor, 
and  I  will  give  you  rest."  He  prayed  with  me  and  urged 
me  to  pray  also.  A  strong  faith  in  Jesus  Christ  as  my 
Saviour  came  into  my  soul.  It  has  never  left  me.  When 
I  saw  Pastor  Johnson  again  I  asked  him  to  baptize  me. 
In  the  First  Baptist  Church  at  Burlington  I  was  baptized, 
February  n,  1858. 

During  those  first  weeks  after  I  had  entered  into  Chris- 
tian experience,  two  men  came  to  my  room  and  told  me 
that  they  believed  God  had  called  me  to  the  ministry. 
They  went  to  Pastor  Johnson  and  told  him  with  strong 
feeling  their  conviction  that  I  must  preach  the  gospel. 
He  was  amazed,  because  he  had  only  recently  baptized 
me.  They  wanted  him  to  join  them  in  convincing  me  of 
my  duty.  I  was  holding  back,  and  refused  to  commit 
myself. 

I  had  become  poor  in  spirit.  I  now  became  poor  in 
pocket.  The  financial  crisis  of  1857  swept  away  the 


36  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN   THE   ORIENT 

hard-earned  money  which  was  to  pay  for  my  education. 
It  was  a  hard  blow  to  me.  I  still  had  land,  but  that  could 
not  help  me.  I  was  what  was  called  "land-poor."  Finan- 
cial stability  was  upset  during  those  years  preceding1  the 
war.  I  was  thinking  of  leaving  school  and  going  to 
work  again  as  surveyor,  or  beginning  in  a  lawyer's  office. 
Pastor  Johnson  heard  of  the  complete  loss  of  all  my  sav- 
ings. He  came  to  me  and  said,  "Brother  Clough,  do  not 
leave  school  on  account  of  means.  Trust  God  and  us. 
Our  Education  Society  will  help  you."  I  told  him  that 
I  was  filled  with  doubt  and  indecision.  My  call  to  preach 
had  been  heard  by  others  more  than  by  me.  Neverthe- 
less, it  so  held  me  that  I  felt  I  must  remain  and  patiently 
plod  on  even  with  empty  pockets,  to  get  the  education 
needed  for  the  ministry.  He  saw  that  I  wanted  to  break 
away,  find  work  anywhere,  and  try  to  climb  up  the  ladder 
of  success  without  a  college  education.  He  urged  me 
to  stay. 

The  Iowa  Baptist  Education  Society  never  provided 
more  than  tuition  and  room  rent  for  me.  I  might  have 
boarded  free  of  charge  in  the  dining-room  of  the  col- 
lege. But  I  preferred  to  go  half-fed  rather  than  bind 
myself  thus  to  a  call  of  which  I  was  not  certain.  For 
months  I  lived  there  in  Burlington  on  graham  bread,  a 
little  butter  and  apples.  If  my  health  had  not  been  so 
sound  my  privations  would  have  broken  me  down  physi- 
cally. There  were  two  hundred  miles  of  rough  road  be- 
tween my  mother  and  me,  else  she  would  have  sent  me 
abundant  supplies.  I  said  nothing,  but  some  of  the  pro- 
fessors were  under  the  impression  that  I  had  not  enough 
to  eat.  Professor  Marston  said  to  me  one  day,  "Clough, 
I  have  a  little  work  to  do  about  the  house,  such  as  sawing 
wood,  and  instead  of  pay  maybe  you  would  come  and 
take  your  meals  with  us  regularly."  The  work  was  a 
mere  excuse  invented  by  Mrs.  Marston.  For  a  whole 


WORKING  THROUGH    COLLEGE  37 

term  she  thus  shielded  my  pride,  in  order  to  make  me 
feel  free  to  come  and  eat  with  them. 

All  my  difficulties  from  first  to  last  in  obtaining  an 
education  in  that  newly  settled  state  of  Iowa  no  doubt 
had  their  effect  in  after  years,  when,  amid  great  draw- 
backs and  opposition,  I  tried  to  provide  schools  of  every 
grade  for  our  native  Christians  in  India,  and  was  obliged 
always  to  reckon  with  their  poverty.  If  I  had  had  easy 
sailing  myself  I  might  have  lacked  the  patience  to  take 
up  that  burden  in  India. 

With  regard  to  my  studies  also  the  first  year  or  two  in 
Burlington  drew  heavily  upon  my  faculty  for  persever- 
ance. On  arrival  I  had  to  enter  the  preparatory  depart- 
ment and  recite  with  pupils  much  younger  than  I.  Then 
I  worked  in  advanced  classes  and  carried  double  studies. 
After  about  two  years  I  entered  the  Sophomore  year  in 
college,  and  then  had  only  regular  college  studies.  I 
specialized  in  mathematics.  Surveying  still  had  attrac- 
tions for  me,  and  I  wanted  technical  preparation  with  a 
view  to  the  future.  But  my  funds  were  low,  though  I 
worked  for  good  pay  on  the  farm  during  the  summer  va- 
cations. Several  times  I  borrowed  money  from  my  fam- 
ily. When  I  entered  my  Junior  year  I  asked  Dr.  Allen 
for  work.  He  gave  me  two  classes  to  teach  in  the  pre- 
paratory department.  This  brought  me  an  income,  but 
it  took  time  and  strength.  Doing  double  work  in  some 
form  year  after  year  began  to  affect  my  health,  but  my 
keen  interest  in  athletic  sports  no  doubt  helped  me  retain 
a  good  measure  of  physical  buoyancy. 

I  engaged  in  the  work  of  the  church  soon  after  I  was 
baptized.  I  went  into  the  part  of  Burlington  where  the 
factory  population  lived,  and  the  streets  were  teeming 
with  children.  I  went  among  them  and  invited  them  to 
come  to  Sunday  school  with  me.  They  came,  whole 
swarms  of  them,  filling  the  building,  but  when  the  super- 

353890 


38  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY  IN   THE  ORIENT 

infendent  tried  to  divide  them  into  classes  they  objected, 
and  said  in  that  case  they  would  stay  away.  I  was  asked 
to  preach  in  a  mission  in  an  outlying1  part  of  Burlington. 
I  agreed  to  do  this,  and  had  little  anxiety  for  the  outcome, 
for  I  was  considered  a  fluent  speaker  in  college,  and 
especially  good  at  off-hand  speeches.  I  struck  out  boldly 
in  my  first  sermon,  and  said  all  I  had  prepared  to  say. 
But  after  I  had  preached  only  fifteen  minutes,  my  mind 
became  a  blank;  I  knew  of  nothing  more  to  say,  and 
closed  the  service.  I  was  vexed  with  myself,  and  with 
those  who  had  asked  me  to  preach.  I  declared  that  I 
could  not  and  would  not  become  a  preacher,  and  I  ad- 
hered to  this  determination  for  several  years. 

Nevertheless,  it  was  taken  for  granted  in  Burlington 
that  I  would  enter  the  ministry.  By  a  sort  of  common 
consent  I  was  counted  among  the  "divinity  students"  of 
the  college.  Those  two  men  who  since  the  time  of  my 
baptism  were  convinced  that  I  was  called  to  preach  had 
a  firm  hold  upon  me.  I  did  not  keep  them  in  ignorance  of 
the  undercurrent  of  my  doubts.  It  made  no  difference  to 
them;  they  were  always  of  the  same  mind  about  me. 
They  knew  that  to  all  appearances  my  chance  for  success 
lay  in  the  direction  of  my  own  choice  of  a  calling 
in  life.  But  they  reasoned  with  me.  I  remember  on  one 
occasion  they  warned  me  to  cease  contending,  lest  God 
himself  interfere,  and  my  plans  of  becoming  a  lawyer, 
a  surveyor,  or  a  politician  be  upset,  thus  forcing  me  into 
obedience.  I  was  not  in  the  habit  of  being  afraid — I  had 
been  facing  Sioux  Indians  and  rattlesnakes  in  the  wilder- 
ness too  long  to  be  given  to  fear.  But  this  danger  of  run- 
ning away  from  the  will  of  God  Almighty  concerning 
me  was  a  danger  which  I  was  afraid  to  face.  I  yielded 
so  far  as  I  could. 

There  was  a  good  deal  of  missionary  spirit  in  the  Bur- 


WORKING  THROUGH    COLLEGE  39 

lington  church.  Two  large  maps  of  the  missionary  world 
were  hung  one  on  each  side  of  the  pulpit.  Pastor  John- 
son used  to  say,  "Clough  had  those  to  look  at."  He  gave 
a  missionary  talk  once  a  month.  Then  he  called  Dr.  S. 
M.  Osgood  to  Burlington  for  a  missionary  address.  For 
some  years  a  missionary  in  Burma,  he  was  now  district 
secretary  in  Chicago  for  the  American  Baptist  Foreign 
Mission  Society.  On  the  morning  after  his  address  he 
visited  several  of  the  young  men  in  their  rooms  at  the 
college,  including  my  own.  I  was  in  the  same  room 
where  the  chalk  marks  were  proposed,  where  I  was  con- 
verted, and  where  I  received  the  call  to  the  ministry. 
Now  Dr.  Osgood  came  in,  and  bore  himself  with  the 
saintly  grace  of  a  messenger,  bringing  a  call  to  a  life's 
service.  I  felt  greatly  drawn  to  him.  In  later  years  I 
loved  him,  and  he  showed  me  a  father's  affection.  I 
was  reticent ;  I  did  not  say  much.  But  when  Dr.  Osgood 
left  my  room  I  felt  inwardly  committed  to  become  a  for- 
eign missionary. 

Meanwhile  our  nation  was  hastening  toward  a  crisis. 
The  Civil  War  was  on  us.  The  news  that  Fort  Sumter 
had  been  fired  upon  acted  as  an  electric  shock.  Burling- 
ton was  close  to  the  Missouri  border,  slavery  and  anti- 
slavery  sentiment  ran  in  close  opposition.  From  our  In- 
stitute windows  we  had  in  full  view  the  Mississippi  River, 
now  dotted  with  steamers  hastening  on  errands  of 
war.  We  could  hear  the  strains  of  "Yankee  Doodle" 
played  on  the  calliope,  and  the  cheering  of  volunteers  on 
shore.  It  was  impossible  to  study.  Whenever  there  was 
a  new  call  for  volunteers  from  Abraham  Lincoln  we  held 
meetings.  The  professors  tried  to  hold  us.  They  closed 
their  recitations  earlier  and  talked  to  us  in  a  sober,  mat- 
ter-of-fact way.  They  told  us  that  more  men  had  already 
enlisted  than  there  were  arms  with  which  to  supply  them. 
They  reminded  us  that  we  intended  to  serve  God  as 


4O  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN   THE   ORIENT 

preachers,  teachers,  or  in  some  such  capacity,  and  that  by 
the  time  the  war  was  over  our  country  would  have  need 
of  our  services.  We  knew  that  this  was  true.  Some  of 
us  heeded  the  advice.  Others  broke  away.  Before  the 
end  of  the  school  years  1861-62  some  classes  were  entirely 
broken  up,  others  were  so  small  they  could  not  be  con- 
tinued; there  was  no  graduating  class.  The  school  re- 
ceived a  hard  blow  through  the  war. 

I  went  home  to  my  family  in  Strawberry  Point.  I  was 
now  going  to  enlist.  Just  then  an  order  went  forth 
that  further  volunteering  in  Iowa  should  be  stopped. 
Part  of  the  state  was  sending  more  than  its  quota  of  men, 
part  was  withholding  men.  A  draft  was  insisted  upon  as 
the  only  fair  way  to  deal  with  Iowa.  I  was  not  drawn 
into  the  draft  net.  The  people  were  singing,  "We  are 
coming,  Father  Abraham,  five  hundred  thousand  more," 
and  I  wanted  to  go — but  this  evidently  was  not  to  be. 

During  the  long  summer  vacations  spent  with  my  fam- 
ily in  Strawberry  Point  I  had  become  acquainted  with 
Miss  Harriet  Sunderland,  and  we  were  engaged  to  be 
married.  She  was  born  in  England,  came  to  America 
with  her  parents  when  a  small  child  and  settled  in  Chau- 
tauqua  County,  New  York.  She  had  received  a  good 
primary  education,  and  had  attended  the  high  school  in 
Jamestown,  New  York.  Her  brothers  lived  in  Straw- 
berry Point.  She  came  West  and  joined  them.  Only 
twenty-one  years  of  age,  she  held  the  position  of  teacher 
in  our  little  town,  and  gave  evidence  of  much  ability  in 
teaching  her  pupils,  about  one  hundred  in  number.  One 
of  her  brothers,  Jabez  Sunderland,  was  my  roommate  in 
Burlington  for  a  time.  He  later  became  a  prominent 
minister  in  the  Unitarian  denomination.  I  also  knew  her 
brother  James  Sunderland,  who  turned  to  the  Baptist 
ministry,  and  afterward  for  years  served  our  Foreign 
Mission  Society  as  district  secretary  on  the  Pacific 


HARRIET   SUNDERLAND   CLOUGH    (1884) 

,  i'JSthc  to'd..me-  .;  •  •  ,"><"  fl'c  fel*  greatly  draun  to  the  foreign  field.  I 
told  her  of  the  call  to  such  u'ork  which  1  had  received.  But  we  said  nothinr 
to  anyone  else  about  this." 


WORKING  THROUGH    COLLEGE  41 

Coast.  His  sister,  too,  had  the  missionary  spirit.  She 
told  me  while  we  were  engaged  that  she  felt  greatly 
drawn  to  the  foreign  field.  I  told  her  of  the  call  to  such 
work  which  I  had  received.  But  we  said  nothing  to  any 
one  else  about  this.  We  were  married  August  15,  1861. 

At  this  juncture  my  family  took  an  interest  in  my  af- 
fairs. Cyrus  came  to  me  and  told  me  that  they  all  were 
agreed  in  several  points  regarding  me.  One  was  that 
they  wanted  me  to  stay  away  from  that  war;  for  they 
knew  my  wholesale  fashion  of  doing  things,  and  were 
afraid  of  my  reckless  daring.  Another  was  that  they 
were  ready  to  give  me  substantial  backing  if  I  would  go 
for  my  senior  year  to  the  Upper  Iowa  University,  which 
had  recently  been  founded  at  Fayette,  only  twenty  miles 
away.  The  aid  was  not  to  take  the  form  of  money,  but 
he  said  if  I  would  settle  for  the  year  in  Fayette,  letting 
our  sister  Vina  be  one  of  our  party,  they  would  supply 
us  with  everything  we  needed.  They  would  send  a 
wagon  with  furniture,  and  have  a  hand  in  the  rent  bill. 
Another  wagon  load  was  to  supply  us  with  wood  for 
fuel,  and  abundant  produce  of  the  farm  for  our  cupboard. 
It  was  a  scheme  which  was  kindly  meant  and  was  prac- 
ticable. We  three  students  accepted  the  offer,  and  our 
family  kept  their  word. 

We  had  a  happy,  profitable  year.  My  sister  entered  the 
regular  course  and  some  years  later  graduated  from  this 
institution.  Mrs.  Clough  eagerly  used  the  opportunities 
offered  her.  I  joined  the  senior  class.  Fayette  was  a 
quiet  place,  yet  here,  too,  the  war  spirit  was  manifest. 
The  students  of  this  institution  had  as  yet  stayed  to- 
gether. The  men  were  back  for  the  fall  term,  but  there 
was  tension.  They  never  knew  whether  they  were  com- 
ing to  their  classes  the  next  day  or  not.  In  the  spring  of 
the  year,  after  Fort  Sumter  had  been  fired  upon,  they  had 
formed  a  company  and  were  ready.  Finally  nothing 


42  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN   THE   ORIENT 

could  hold  them;  they  left  for  the  seat  of  war.  The 
senior  class  had  numbered  nineteen.  Only  two  men  were 
left,  Mr.  Jason  L.  Paine  and  myself.  We  called  on  the 
professors  together  to  ascertain  whether  under  the  cir- 
cumstances they  would  continue  their  instruction.  It 
was  the  first  graduating  class  of  the  institution  and  it 
was  decided  that  the  instruction  should  be  given  as  if  the 
whole  class  had  remained. 

The  professors  were  able  men;  several  of  them  were 
graduates  of  Yale  University.  President  Brush  took 
President  Allen's  place  in  being  my  friend  as  well  as  my 
teacher.  Twice  a  week  he  let  me  come  to  his  study  and 
recite  to  him  privately  on  two  subjects  which  I  needed  to 
complete  my  course.  They  were  of  a  philosophical  na- 
ture, and  the  contact  with  the  learned  professor  without 
the  restraint  of  the  classroom  was  an  inspiration.  There 
is  scope  for  conjecture  as  to  whether  my  career  would 
have  shaped  itself  differently  if  the  Upper  Iowa  Univer- 
sity had  opened  one  year  earlier,  and  if  I  had  gone  there 
in  the  first  place.  Baptist  preachers  went  forth  in  un- 
usual numbers  from  Burlington.  United  States  senators 
and  men  of  political  career  are  among  the  alumni  of 
Fayette.  For  one  who  intended  to  be  a  lawyer  and  a 
politician  it  would  have  seemed  the  more  suitable  choice, 
and  it  is  very  probable  that  I  would  have  become  a  Meth- 
odist under  the  influences  prevailing  there. 

The  day  of  graduation  came  June  26,  1862.  President 
Brush  preached  the  baccalaureate  sermon  from  Romans 
14:7 — "For  none  of  us  liveth  to  himself,  and  no  man 
dieth  to  himself."  Preachers,  lawyers,  doctors,  and  many 
who  had  an  interest  in  the  students  had  come  from  vari- 
ous parts  of  upper  Iowa  in  wagons  and  buggies;  for 
there  was  not  yet  a  railroad.  The  program  of  the  com- 
mencement exercises  was  a  lengthy  one.  Mrs.  Clough 
participated  in  the  occasion  by  reading  an  essay.  The 


WORKING   THROUGH    COLLEGE  43 

subject  for  my  graduating  oration  was  "Skepticism  in 
its  Relation  to  Philosophy." 

My  college  diploma,  giving  me  the  degree  of  Bachelor 
of  Arts,  was  in  my  hand.  But  I  was  now  no  longer  free 
to  go  forth  and  use  my  college  education  for  the  career 
which  I  wanted.  I  felt  bound  over  in  mind  and  in  spirit 
to  a  career  which  was  not  of  my  choosing.  As  I  look 
back  I  think  it  all  had  to  be  that  way.  The  Lord 
Jesus  was  shaping  my  course,  and  he  makes  no  mistake. 


IV 

THE   CALL   OF   THE   FAR   EAST 

IN  an  unsettled  frame  of  mind  I  now  faced  the  ques- 
tion as  to  what  was  to  be  the  next  step.  The  desire  to 
go  to  the  war  was  again  uppermost.  There  was  great 
demand  for  nurses  at  the  front :  the  wounded  were  many, 
and  those  who  were  there  to  attend  them  were  over- 
burdened. Mrs.  Clough  wanted  to  go  with  me.  Our  ap- 
plication to  the  surgeon-general  at  Washington  was 
favorably  received.  When  he  learned,  however,  that 
Mrs.  Clough  was  only  twenty- four  years  of  age  he  re- 
plied that  she  was  too  young  for  duties  of  so  harrowing 
a  nature,  and  declined  to  entertain  the  proposition 
further.  This  was  a  disappointment  to  us. 

Then  there  was  the  question  of  my  going  to  a  theo- 
logical seminary.  I  remember  that  several  men  urged 
me  to  make  definite  preparation  for  the  ministry.  But  I 
felt  no  pressure  of  duty  at  that  time  to  preach.  The  only 
call  which,  to  me,  had  been  plain  and  emphatic  was  the 
call  to  the  foreign  field.  It  now  occupied  my  mind  and 
crowded  out  the  old  ambition  to  become  a  lawyer.  I  said 
nothing  of  this  to  any  one,  for  I  did  not  feel  that  the  time 
had  yet  come  for  me  to  make  a  decisive  move  in  that 
direction. :  I  was  waiting  for  further  indications. 

Meanwhile  we  accepted  an  offer  to  teach  the  public 
school  at  Colesburg,  Iowa,  for  one  year.  There  were  one 
hundred  and  fifty  children.  Mrs.  Clough  presided  over 

44 


THE   CALL   OF   THE    FAR   EAST  45 

the  primary  department  and  I  had  all  the  rest.  The  peo- 
ple of  this  town  of  about  fifteen  hundred  inhabitants  be- 
came greatly  attached  to  us.  Our  popularity  made  me 
uneasy;  it  became  a  warning1  voice  to  me.  Whenever 
there  was  fresh  indication  of  it  the  words  rang  in  my  ear, 
"Woe  unto  you  when  all  men  shall  speak  well  of  you." 
I  was  followed  everywhere  by  these  words,  and  they  were 
powerful  enough  to  make  me  feel  that  I  was  not  in  the 
right  place.  I  never  forgot  how  it  felt.  In  later  years, 
in  Ongole,  when  I  knew  that  there  was  plotting  against 
my  life,  and  when  criticism  against  my  work  was  crop- 
ping up  right  and  left,  I  told  myself  that  it  was  better  to 
endure  this  than  bear  the  warning  of  those  words :  "Woe 
unto  you  when  all  men  shall  speak  well  of  you." 

Once  more  the  temptation  came  to  engage  in  politics, 
and  perhaps  take  up  surveying  again.  I  entered  eagerly 
into  the  contest  of  electing  county  and  state  officers  that 
year.  The  fifteen  delegates  from  Colesburg  had  made 
me  their  foreman  when  we  went  to  the  convention  called 
by  the  Republicans  of  our  county.  There  was  intense 
excitement  among  the  one  hundred  delegates  who  were 
present,  but  Colesburg  came  out  ahead.  Several  Coles- 
burg  men  were  nominated  to  various  county  offices,  and 
one  to  a  seat  in  the  House  of  Representatives.  Later, 
when  the  county  surveyor  was  to  be  nominated,  some  one 
proposed  my  name.  Then  the  delegates  from  the  other 
parts  of  the  county  rose  almost  in  a  body  and  protested. 
They  claimed  that  through  my  exertions  Colesburg  had 
already  put  men  into  office  in  almost  everything,  and  that 
they  could  not  allow  any  more.  I  could  not  work  for 
myself.  Another  man  was  elected  county  surveyor. 

Ten  years  later  I  was  given  a  key  to  the  understanding 
of  that  incident  in  my  life.  I  had  been  in  India  and  had 
returned  to  Iowa  during  my  first  furlough.  During  the 
meeting  of  some  association  I  met  Dr.  J.  Y.  Aitchison, 


46  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY  IN   THE   ORIENT 

a  man  much  respected  among  the  Baptist  ministers  of  the 
state.  We  were  driving  together  some  distance  in  a 
buggy.  He  asked  me  whether  I  remembered  that  politi- 
cal convention,  and  added,  "That  was  a  turning  point  in 
your  career."  He  told  me  that  he  was  present  in  that 
convention;  he  saw  how  I  controlled  it,  compelling  the 
men  to  do  as  I  advocated.  My  career  in  Burlington  was 
known  to  him;  he  recognized  the  temptation  that  lay  in 
my  capacity  for  a  political  career  and  feared  that  I 
would  be  lost  to  the  ministry.  Therefore,  as  he  sat  there 
unobserved  he  prayed  with  all  his  might  for  my  defeat. 
He  rejoiced  when  the  tide  turned  against  me,  and  went 
home  and  gave  thanks  to  God. 

However,  this  turn  in  affairs  increased  my  previous 
restlessness.  I  felt  I  could  not  teach  school  longer.  Our 
fourth  term  was  coming  to  a  close;  I  offered  my  resig- 
nation to  the  directors,  to  take  effect  immediately.  They 
came  in  a  body  and  asked  me  to  reconsider,  and  to  name 
the  salary  I  wanted.  I  told  them  I  must  go.  The  leading 
man  among  them,  who  had  recently  obtained  a  seat  in 
the  House  of  Representatives,  largely  through  my  instru- 
mentality, came  to  me  again  later  and  urged  me  to  name 
my  salary,  but  not  to  go  away.  He  was  a  good  man,  a 
Methodist  class  leader.  I  felt  he  would  understand  my 
motives.  I  told  him  about  my  restlessness,  about  my 
feeling  that  I  was  not  in  the  right  place.  Tears  came  into 
the  man's  eyes.  He  said,  "Mr.  Clough,  this  is  of  God. 
You  will  have  to  go." 

I  wrote  to  my  friend,  Pastor  Johnson,  and  told  him 
that  I  found  myself  unable  to  settle  down  to  work,  and 
that  I  felt  no  distinct  call  to  anything.  He  advised  me 
to  accept  an  appointment  as  colporter,  and  to  work  at 
this  till  I  found  something  I  really  wanted  to  do  in  life. 
He,  too,  had  recently  made  a  change.  He  had  become 
district  secretary  of  the  American  Baptist  Publication 


THE   CALL  OF   THE   FAR    EAST  47 

Society,  a  position  which  he  held  for  many  years.  He 
often  spoke  of  it  afterward,  that  his  first  official  act  in 
this  position  was  to  get  an  appointment  for  me  as  col- 
porter  in  northern  Iowa,  where  I  was  well  known.  It 
seemed  to  him  always  that  I  made  the  right  move  at  that 
time.  The  hand-to-hand  labor  among  the  people  in 
northern  Iowa  prepared  me  for  the  village  visiting  in 
India.  Books  and  calling  made  an  excuse  for  entering 
any  home  and  speaking  to  any  person.  I  had  become 
part  of  the  aggressive  Christian  force  which  was  at  that 
time  evangelizing  the  wide  West.  No  one  went  with  me 
to  initiate  me.  I  had  printed  instructions  from  the  Pub- 
lication Society  to  guide  me  in  my  work.  The  methods 
here  formed  were  later  carried  to  India.  I  made  it  a 
point  to  hold  meetings  in  farmhouses,  to  which  neighbor- 
ing farmers  came.  After  my  first  tour  through  the  terri- 
tory assigned  to  me  the  people  looked  forward  to  those 
meetings.  They  missed  my  coming  when  I  resigned  to 
go  to  India.  Many  said,  "What  is  that  for?  We  do  not 
want  you  to  go.  Let  some  one  whom  we  do  not  like  go 
to  those  heathen." 

I  was  happy  in  my  calling  as  colporter,  but  I  knew  all 
the  time  that  I  was  working  my  way  through  a  tran- 
sition period.  The  feeling  that  the  time  would  come 
when  the  way  would  open  to  go  to  the  foreign  field  never 
left  me.  Mrs.  Clough  had  a  similar  feeling.  During 
that  year  we  received  what  was  to  us  a  tempting  offer  for 
change  of  service.  The  principalship  of  a  collegiate  in- 
stitute was  offered  to  me  at  twice  the  salary  which  I  wa.^ 
receiving  as  colporter.  We  considered  the  offer.  The 
work  would  have  been  far  more  congenial.  We  decided 
that  we  must  decline,  lest  I  oppose  my  sense  of  duty  and 
get  into  the  wrong  place  again. 

Something  now  occurred  which  formed  a  stepping- 
stone.  I  heard  that  Dr.  William  Dean,  the  pioneer  mis- 


4&  SOCIAL  CHRISTIANITY  IN  THE  ORIENT 

sionary  among  the  Chinese  in  Bangkok,  Siam,  who  was 
then  in  the  United  States,  would  address  a  convention  in 
Davenport,  Iowa.  I  went  there.  I  listened  to  Dr.  Dean's 
appeal  for  an  assistant.  I  wanted  to  go  with  him.  But 
I  said  nothing  to  any  one,  nor  did  I  seek  an  introduction 
to  Dr.  Dean.  A  strange  hesitancy  held  me.  I  had  given 
up  my  ambition  for  a  career  as  lawyer  and  politician  and 
surveyor.  Yet  the  steps  which  I  was  taking  toward  the 
call  to  which  I  had  rendered  obedience  in  secret  were 
weak  and  halting  as  those  of  a  child.  I  began  now  to 
seek  counsel  with  men  who  had  won  my  confidence.  I 
sought  to  gain  strength  thereby  and  found  it. 

At  some  association  meeting  I  met  Deacon  Giles 
Mabie,  inventor  of  an  American  reaper.  He  was  travel- 
ing over  northern  Iowa  in  behalf  of  the  Iowa  Baptist 
Education  Society.  We  decided  to  go  together.  While 
driving  along  tedious  roads  over  the  prairies  in  our  buggy 
we  talked  about  many  things.  The  deacon  listened  to 
my  experience  of  the  past  five  years,  which  had  cul- 
minated in  my  desire  to  go  to  Siam  with  Dr.  Dean.  He 
said,  "That  is  all  plainly  a  call  from  God."  He  had 
recently  been  in  London  and  had  heard  Charles  H.  Spur- 
geon  in  the  first  sudden  springing  forth  of  his  power  as 
a  preacher.  He  was  on  the  alert  for  something  similar  in 
my  case.  It  filled  him  with  enthusiasm  and  I  caught  it 
from  him.  He  judged  of  me  correctly:  I  needed  more 
self-confidence.  He  saw  that  a  little  honest  praise  would 
do  me  good;  he  even  said  flattering  things  to  me,  and 
they  did  me  no  harm.  When  he  went  his  way,  and  I 
went  mine  with  my  books,  my  outlook  was  plainer  be- 
fore me,  and  my  courage  had  risen.  The  good  deacon 
lived  to  be  ninety  years  old.  The  tidings  from  the  Telugu 
Mission  always  stirred  him :  he  felt  he  had  had  a  hand  in 
it.  His  nephew,  Henry  C.  Mabie,  from  the  time  the 
deacon  and  I  rode  over  the  prairies  together,  heard  him 


THE   CALL   OF   THE   FAR   EAST  49 

speak  of  me.  It  formed  his  first  direct  contact  with 
foreign  missions.  Thirty  years  later  the  nephew  and  I 
stood  side  by  side  in  a  great  work  for  foreign  missions  in 
our  denomination. 

In  my  itinerary  I  went  to  Dubuque  and  there  met  Rev. 
John  Fulton,  busy  purchasing  lumber  for  the  church  he 
was  building  in  Independence,  Iowa.  I  knew  the  lumber 
yard  where  he  was  picking  out  his  wood,  and  went  there. 
We  sat  down  on  a  pile  of  lumber,  with  the  good,  strong 
odor  of  it  surrounding  us,  and  talked.  He  grew  enthusi- 
astic. "Why,  of  course,"  he  said,  "that  is  of  God !"  He 
was  personally  acquainted  with  Dr.  Jonah  G.  Warren, 
secretary  of  the  Baptist  Foreign  Mission  Society,  and 
offered  to  write  to  him.  He  did  so,  and  if  he  failed  to 
pick  out  much  lumber  for  his  church  that  morning  he 
helped  to  pick  out  a  workman  for  India.  I  also  met 
Elder  Asa  Chapin,  who  had  been  pastor  in  the  East,  and 
knew  several  members  of  the  Executive  Committee.  The 
two  encouraged  me,  and  wrote  to  the  Committee,  calling 
their  attention  to  me.  The  letters  written  by  these  men 
formed  my  introduction  to  Dr.  Warren.  He  heard  of 
me  in  my  humble  calling  as  colporter.  It  was  the  begin- 
ning of  a  strong  allegiance  that  held  us  till  death. 

In  order  to  be  in  time  for  the  Baptist  Anniversaries, 
held  in  May,  1864,  in  Philadelphia,  I  sent  to  Dr.  S.  M. 
Osgood,  the  man  who  came  to  my  room  in  college  and 
brought  me  the  call  to  the  foreign  field,  my  application 
to  be  sent  to  the  foreign  field  as  assistant  to  Dr.  Dean.  I 
also  wrote  to  Dr.  Johnson,  the  man  who  baptized  me,  and 
asked  him  to  give  his  commendation  as  my  pastor. 
Through  these  two  men  my  application  was  sent  to  Dr. 
Warren,  and  the  matter  was  laid  before  the  Executive 
Committee. 

While  everything  was  still  pending  I  went  to  Chicago 
to  attend  a  "Ministers'  Institute."  Many  of  the  ministers 


50  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN   THE   ORIENT 

then  in  the  West  had  received  little  theological  training. 
They  eagerly  came,  at  least  one  hundred  of  them,  to  this 
Institute  every  summer  to  study  portions  of  the  Bible  and 
attend  lectures.  The  man  who  presided  over  it,  Dr.  Na- 
thaniel Colver,  was  one  of  the  leading  men  of  the  denomi- 
nation. He,  too,  had  not  been  a  student  in  a  theological 
seminary.  He  was  called  a  giant  of  Calvinistic  faith.  I 
came  under  the  spiritual  influence  of  the  man  during 
those  weeks.  Of  my  studies  in  the  Institute  I  remem- 
bered little  afterwards.  What  remained  with  me  and 
served  me  was  the  pattern  of  such  a  school.  For  six 
years,  out  in  India,  during  the  hot  weather,  I  called  the 
native  preachers  together  into  Ongole,  and  taught  them 
after  the  pattern  given  me  by  Dr.  Colver.  Thus  did  I 
train  the  men  who  were  to  be  my  fellow-workers  when* 
thousands  were  baptized. 

Meanwhile  summer  had  come.  It  was  harvest  time, 
and  there  was  great  abundance  that  year.  Many  of  the 
men  had  gone  to  the  war ;  women  and  children  helped  in 
the  fields,  almost  day  and  night.  No  one  could  take  time 
to  look  at  books  or  buy  them.  I  took  a  month's  leave 
from  colportage  and  engaged  to  work  in  the  harvest  at 
three  dollars  per  day  and  board — better  wages  than  the 
missionary  society  offered.  I  was  standing  on  a  four- 
horse  reaper,  raking  off  the  heavy  grain,  fifteen  acres  per 
day,  when  a  man  came  bringing  me  a  letter  from  Dr. 
Warren,  with  an  invitation  to  come  to  Boston  and  meet 
the  Executive  Committee.  I  left  the  rich  harvest  on 
Iowa's  farm  and  turned  my  face  toward  the  harvest  wait- 
ing in  India.  Only  Mrs.  Clough  and  one  or  two  others 
knew  why  I  was  going  East.  I  thought  I  might  not  be 
accepted.  Moreover,  if  my  brothers  had  known,  they 
would  have  done  their  utmost  to  keep  me  from  my  pur- 
pose. 

I  met  the  Committee  August  2,  1864,  sunburned,  my 


THE  CALL   OF   THE   FAR   EAST  51 

hands  hard  and  brown  with  harvesting.  I  had  a  slight 
surveyor's  stoop.  My  black  alpaca  coat  was  country  cut. 
Yet  Dr.  Warren  received  me  with  all  kindness,  and  I  felt 
at  home  with  him  at  once.  From  the  time  of  my  first 
meeting  with  Dr.  Warren  I  felt  that  I  could  do  anything 
this  man  asked  of  me.  Nothing  ever  changed  this  feel- 
ing. 

Dr.  Warren  took  me  into  his  room,  where  he  had  his 
desk  and  his  papers.  There  he  talked  with  me  for  about 
an  hour.  When  I  came  out  of  the  room  I  was  committed 
in  mind  to  becoming  a  missionary  to  the  Telugus.  I  had 
applied  to  be  sent  with  Dr.  Dean  to  Siam.  Another  man, 
meanwhile,  had  filled  that  place.  He  died  after  one  year 
on  the  field.  Yet,  but  for  him,  I  might  have  been  sent  to 
Siam.  This  was  evidently  not  to  be.  I  do  not  know 
what  gave  Dr.  Warren  the  idea  that  I  might  be  a  suitable 
man  for  the  Telugu  Mission.  There  were  other  vacan- 
cies. I  had  been  reading  the  Baptist  Missionary  Maga~ 
zine  for  some  years,  but  the  Telugu  Mission  had  not 
attracted  my  attention  specially. 

Dr.  Warren  now  told  me  briefly  what  its  history  had 
been.  He  did  this  with  a  touch  of  personal  reminiscence ; 
for  he  had  known  every  man  prominently  connected  with 
it.  Far  back,  when  he  was  a  student  in  Brown  Univer- 
sity, the  Rev.  Amos  Sutton,  a  missionary  of  the  English 
Baptist  Society,  occupied  the  pulpit  one  Sunday.  He 
came  from  the  Oriya  country,  just  north  of  the  Telugu 
country.  His  wife  was  an  American,  the  widow  of  one 
of  the  missionaries  of  Judson's  party.  He  urged  Ameri- 
can Baptists  to  found  a  mission  in  the  Telugu  country. 
This  was  in  1835.  His  plea  was  granted.  The  following 
year  the  Rev.  Samuel  S.  Day  was  sent  to  the  Telugus. 

The  story  of  the  twenty-eight  years  which  followed  was 
a  story  of  much  holding  on  by  faith.  Only  four  mis- 
sionaries and  their  wives  had  been  in  service :  Day,  Van 


52  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY  IN   THE   ORIENT 

Husen,  Jewett,  Douglass.  The  society  gave  two  men  to 
this  mission  during  the  first  ten  years,  one  during  the 
second  decade,  and  one  at  the  beginning  of  the  third. 
The  converts  were  gathered  one  by  one.  The  mission 
still  had  only  the  one  station  at  Nellore,  and  a  church 
membership  of  about  thirty. 

Three  times  the  question  was  brought  forward  at  the 
annual  meeting  of  the  society,  whether  this  mission 
should  be  continued  or  not.  These  three  attempts  at 
abandonment  were  all  within  the  period  of  Dr.  Warren's 
connection  with  the  society — as  secretary  since  1855. 
No  one  can  measure  the  spiritual  strength  with  which 
he  supported  that  feeble  Telugu  Mission,  and  clung  to 
it  tenaciously,  when  others  sought  to  let  it  die.  The 
Baptists  had  no  other  mission  so  forlorn,  so  nearly  given 
up.  To  this  they  sent  me. 

The  third  attempt  at  abandonment  had  been  made  just 
recently.  Two  years  before,  at  the  Anniversaries,  in  1862, 
there  was  a  majority  who  believed  that  abundant  time 
had  been  given  the  Telugu  Mission  to  show  results. 
Since  these  were  not  considered  adequate  there  were 
urgent  demands  that  the  mission  be  discontinued.  Dr. 
Warren  sat  on  the  platform.  As  he  listened  while  men 
were  dealing  heavy  blows  in  the  work  of  overthrow  he 
said  to  himself,  "Surely  the  end  of  the  Telugu  Mission 
has  come."  He  had  tried  to  keep  silence,  but  when  the 
vote  was  about  to  be  taken,  and  he  knew  it  meant  death 
to  the  mission,  he  could  not  endure  it.  He  rose  and  ex- 
claimed, "Wait,  brethren,  wait!  You  know  not  what 
you  are  doing.  Wait,  let  us  hear  what  Brother  Jewett, 
who  is  now  on  his  journey  home,  has  to  say  on  this  sub- 
ject." He  said  no  one  afterward  could  report  the  speech 
he  then  made,  as  it  fell  from  his  lips.  Neither  could  he 
himself  have  told  what  he  said.  The  mission  was  saved, 
and  he  was  filled  with  faith  in  it. 


THE   CALL   OF   THE   FAR   EAST  53 

Dr.  Warren  asked  me  what  I  thought  about  going  to 
that  mission.  I  was  deeply  interested.  But  I  felt  right 
there  in  Dr.  Warren's  room  that  it  would  not  be  pos- 
sible for  me  to  hold  on  year  after  year  without  visible 
result.  I  was  not  a  man  of  faith — action  was  more  in 
my  line.  I  was  willing  to  go  out  and  try.  If  I  found 
that  I  could  not  work  a  change  I  would  make  up  my  mind 
that  I  was  in  the  wrong  place,  and  must  go  elsewhere. 
Dr.  Warren  told  me  that  my  active  disposition  was  in 
place.  He  spoke  to  me  of  Dr.  Jewett,  whom  I  had  not 
yet  seen.  The  foundation  for  the  strong  sense  of  fellow- 
ship in  work,  which  held  Dr.  Jewett  and  me  for  many  a 
year,  was  laid  there  in  Dr.  Warren's  room. 

I  came  before  the  Executive  Committee  that  day,  and 
told  them  of  my  conversion  and  my  call  to  the  foreign 
field.  They  ask'ed  me  whether  I  felt  drawn  to  any  special 
country.  I  replied,  "No,  I  am  ready  to  go  wherever  I 
am  needed  most."  I  was  requested  to  retire  to  Dr.  War- 
ren's room.  A  few  minutes  later  Dr.  Warren  came  in 
and  said,  "Brother  Clough,  the  Executive  Committee 
has  appointed  you  a  missionary  of  the  American  Bap- 
tist Foreign  Mission  Society,  and  designated  you  to  the 
Telugus,  to  work  in  connection  with  Dr.  Jewett.  And 
now  can  you  sleep?" 

Less  than  two  years  previously  Dr.  Jewett,  soon  after 
his  arrival  in  America,  had  sat  in  that  room  facing  the 
Executive  Committee.  They  proposed  to  him  the  re- 
linquishment  of  the  Telugu  Mission.  They  found  him 
immovable.  His  faith  told  him  that  "God  has  much  peo- 
ple among  the  Telugus."  He  had  labored  among  them 
for  fourteen  years,  and  declined  to  be  transplanted  to 
some  other  field.  He  meant  to  live,  and  if  need  be  to  die, 
among  the  Telugus.  It  is  said  that  Dr.  Warren  smiled 
then  and  answered,  "Well,  brother,  if  you  are  resolved  to 
return,  we  must  send  some  one  with  you  to  bury  you. 


54  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN   THE   ORIENT 

You  certainly  ought  to  have  a  Christian  burial  in  that 
heathen  land." 

As  I  was  the  man  elected  to  go  with  Dr.  Jewett,  they 
wanted  to  test  my  mettle.  They  said  to  me,  "Suppose  in 
view  of  the  financial  depression,  we  should  have  to  decide 
not  to  send  you  to  the  Telugus,  what  would  you  do?"  "I 
should  have  to  find  some  other  way  of  getting  there," 
was  my  reply.  I  knew  almost  nothing  about  the  Telugus. 
I  was  only  dimly  aware  of  the  fact  that  I  was  being  sent 
to  a  "forlorn  hope."  Yet  I  was  unwilling  to  abandon  the 
Telugus  to  whom  I  had  only  just  been  appointed. 


AROUND  THE  CAPE  TO  INDIA 

WHEN  I  left  Boston  after  receiving  my  appointment  to 
the  Telugu  Mission,  there  was  no  prospect  of  an  early 
departure  to  India.  Funds  were  low  in  the  mission  treas- 
ury. On  account  of  the  war  the  usual  gifts  to  foreign 
missions  were  not  forthcoming.  We  were  to  wait  a  year. 
I  went  back  to  Iowa  and  stood  again  on  the  four-horse 
reaper,  pitching  off  the  golden  grain,  when  a  telegram 
was  brought  to  me  from  Dr.  Warren.  The  Committee 
had  changed  their  plans.  We  were  to  settle  our  affairs 
and  be  ready  soon  to  sail  with  Dr.  Jewett. 

Dr.  Warren  knew  that  I  wanted  to  go  to  a  theological 
institution  while  waiting.  He  wrote  consoling  me :  "You 
have  a  collegiate  education,  and  the  theological  knowl- 
edge which  you  require  you  will  have  time  to  pick  up 
after  you  reach  your  station."  I  have  often  wondered 
whether  to  be  glad  or  sorry  because  I  was  never  a  stu- 
dent in  a  theological  seminary.  It  was  not  to  be,  evi- 
dently, in  my  case. 

My  silence  was  now  at  an  end.  My  family  and  friends 
heard  of  my  appointment.  My  brothers  were  highly  in- 
censed: "You  have  thrown  yourself  away!  You  must 
be  insane."  Even  my  sister  Jane  felt  that  her  hopes  con- 
cerning me  were  being  frustrated.  Sister  Vina  was  in 
full  sympathy  with  us.  She  told  us  she  was  coming 
some  day  to  join  us.  She  did  come.  My  father  had  died 

55 


$6  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY  IN   THE  ORIENT 

two  years  before.  I  felt  deeply  his  absence  from  the  old 
homestead.  My  mother  was  cheered  by  having  us  with 
her  during  the  first  years  of  her  widowhood.  Mrs. 
Clough,  with  Allen,  our  son,  born  in  Colesburg,  had 
stayed  with  her  while  I  was  going  about  as  colporter. 
Now  we  were  to  leave  her.  She  never  objected.  When 
the  time  came  for  me  to  go  she  said,  "I  am  glad  I  have  a 
son  thought  worthy  to  be  a  missionary,  but  I  tell  you, 
my  boy,  it  is  hard  to  give  you  up."  She  stood  in  the  door 
of  the  old  homestead,  quite  calm,  looking  after  us  as  we> 
drove  away.  I  turned  and  looked  back  several  times,  and 
never  forgot  the  image  of  her  as  she  stood  there.  Sister 
Jane  told  me  many  years  later  that  mother,  after  watch- 
ing till  we  were  out  of  sight,  went  out  into  the  dooryard 
and  cried  so  loud,  wringing  her  hands,  that  her  crying 
was  heard  across  the  fields  over  at  Cyrus'  house.  He 
came  and  tried  to  bring  her  in  and  comfort  her,  but  she 
refused  to  be  comforted. 

At  that  time,  fifty  years  ago,  missionaries  were  few. 
It  was  an  event  in  the  religious  life  of  a  state  when  some 
one  was  willing  to  leave  home  and  go  to  the  other  side 
of  the  earth  for  Christ's  sake.  Little  was  known  of 
Asiatic  countries  and  the  conditions  there.  Compared 
with  the  rapid,  comfortable  travel  of  the  present  day,  it 
was  a  formidable  undertaking  to  go  on  a  voyage  of  four 
months. 

When  the  leading  Baptists  of  Iowa  heard  of  our  ap- 
pointment and  early  departure  they  were  stirred.  Every- 
body wanted  a  hand  in  it.  At  the  state  convention,  soon 
after,  a  committee  volunteered  to  help  in  the  outfit,  since 
time  was  so  limited.  My  ordination  was  to  be  held  in 
the  church  in  Burlington,  where  I  was  baptized  nearly 
seven  years  before.  A  committee  of  arrangements  was 
formed ;  Dr.  Allen  was  its  chairman.  Three  weeks  before 
the  appointed  time  an  invitation  was  sent  to.  all  the  Bap- 


AROUND  THE   CAPE   TO   INDIA  57 

tist  churches  in  Iowa  and  neighboring  states.  It  was  to 
be  a  foreign  missionary  mass  meeting;  those  planning 
to  come  were  to  notify  the  committee  of  their  intention, 
and  free  accommodation  was  to  be  offered  to  all  who 
thus  came.  It  lasted  two  days,  November  19  and  20, 
1864.  On  the  first  day  was  my  examination,  and  in  the 
evening  a  missionary  sermon  from  Dr.  Nathaniel  Colver. 
On  the  next  day,  a  Sunday,  was  the  ordination  service, 
followed  in  the  evening  by  a  missionary  conference. 

An  able  council  came  to  the  ordination.  I  was  fully 
aware  of  my  lack  of  theological  training,  but  determined 
to  tell  the  council  what  I  knew.  There  was  present  Dr. 
Allen,  the  teacher  and  friend  of  my  college  days;  Dr. 
Osgood,  who  had  brought  me  the  call  to  the  foreign  field ; 
Dr.  Aitchison,  who  sat  in  the  political  convention  a  little 
more  than  a  year  before.  There  was  Dr.  Nash  of  Des 
Moines,  Iowa,  and  Dr.  J.  A.  Smith  of  the  Standard  of 
Chicago;  and  there  was  Dr.  Nathaniel  Colver,  the  great 
Baptist  preacher,  who  knew  better  than  any  one  else  there 
that  they  were  sending  me  to  a  "forlorn  hope,"  for  twice 
—perhaps  three  times — he  had  been  at  the  anniversary 
meetings  when  the  fate  of  the  Telugu  Mission  hung  in 
the  balance,  and  it  was  saved. 

Dr.  G.  J.  Johnson  had  come  from  St.  Louis  to  be  pres- 
ent at  the  ordination  of  his  "son  in  the  faith."  He  gave 
me  the  hand  of  fellowship.  Long  years  after  he  told  me 
that  this  was  a  great  moment  in  his  life.  Fifteen  years 
had  passed  since  his  own  ordination.  Even  as  a  student 
he  had  felt  the  call  to  the  foreign  field.  He  always  wanted 
to  go,  but  circumstances  prevented  him.  The  doubt 
made  him  restless.  Now,  as  he  stood  on  the  platform 
during  my  ordination,  it  came  to  him  almost  as  a  voice 
from  heaven :  "He  has  gone  in  your  stead ;  you  are  re- 
leased !"  Never  again  did  he  have  a  disquieting  thought ; 
his  duty  seemed  to  be  fulfilled  through  me. 


58  SOCIAL    CHRISTIANITY   IN    THE   ORIENT 

Before  the  service  was  over  a  telegram  came  from  Dr. 
Warren  asking  Dr.  Allen  to  send  us  on  at  once.  We 
decided  that  we  must  take  the  first  eastbound  train 
early  the  next  morning.  Our  outfit,  prepared  by  the  Bap- 
tist churches  in  Iowa,  was  nearly  ready  to  be  packed.  It 
had  to  be  left  behind.  The  Mississippi  was  running  with 
floating  ice.  There  was  no  bridge.  If  the  ice  were  to 
close  there  would  be  no  way  of  crossing.  Early  the  next 
morning  we  took  the  ferry  boat.  It  was  cold,  and  there 
was  some  risk,  but  a  number  of  friends  and  brethren  were 
there  to  cross  with  us,  and  see  us  off  at  the  railway  sta- 
tion. The  Baptists  in  Iowa  sent  us  to  India  with  warm 
hearts.  They  did  not  cease  to  stand  by  me  during  my 
missionary  life. 

We  arrived  in  Chicago  in  the  evening.  Dr.  Colver  and 
Dr.  Osgood  had  come  with  us.  We  had  only  an  hour  to 
wait  for  our  train,  and  were  then  to  go  on  alone.  One  of 
the  most  important  events  of  my  life  now  happened.  The 
presence  of  those  two  men  of  God  with  us  all  day  had 
seemed  to  bring  us  to  a  Mount  of  Transfiguration  as  we 
talked  together.  Our  train  was  ready.  Dr.  Osgood  had 
placed  Mrs.  Clough  and  Allen  on  board.  Dr.  Colver 
and  I  stood  outside  near  the  steps.  The  first  gong  had 
sounded;  it  was  nearly  time  for  the  next.  Then,  as  if 
moved  by  some  powerful  impulse,  Dr.  Colver  took  both 
my  hands  in  his.  In  his  impressive  way  he  said,  "Brother 
Clough,  I  believe  that  God  from  all  eternity  has  chosen 
you  to  be  a  missionary  to  the  Telugus.  Go  nothing 
doubting.  Remember  that  you  are  invulnerable  until 
your  work  is  done."  With  this  he  handed  me  up  the 
steps,  the  train  started,  and  we  were  off.  I  had  received 
a  benediction  that  was  far  more  than  a  benediction.  The 
strong  feeling  which  I  was  to  cherish  for  many  years,  that 
I  was  an  ambassador  of  Jesus  Christ  to  the  Telugus,  was 
here  born  into  conscious  conviction.  The  assurance  that 


AROUND   THE   CAPE  TO   INDIA  59 

I  was  invulnerable  until  my  work  was  done  stayed  by 
me,  all  through,  like  a  sword  of  fire.  It  was  a  spiritual 
anointing  given  by  one  who  had  the  power  to  give  it. 
It  was  received  in  all  humility.  The  effect  remained. 

We  had  only  two  days  in  which  to  reach  Boston.  A 
heavy  snowstorm  in  western  New  York  delayed  us. 
Trains  were  not  on  time.  When  finally  we  arrived  in 
Boston,  Dr.  Warren  stood  there  waiting  for  us.  I  asked 
hurriedly,  "Is  the  ship  here  yet  ?"  Answer :  "The  crew 
ran  away  last  night,  and  are  not  back  yet,  hence  you  are 
safe  at  least  another  day."  Shipping  was  disorganized 
by  the  war.  Men  wanted  to  enlist.  Our  ship  was  a  mile 
from  shore.  When  the  crew  began  to  come  back  police- 
men watched  every  boat  that  went  to  it,  to  keep  the  crew 
from  running,  away  again.  Portions  of  our  outfit  ar- 
rived by  express.  The  rest  reached  us  in  India. 

We  now  met  Dr.  Jewett.  He  had  to  leave  wife  and 
children  behind  and  go  out  alone.  The  farewell  meeting 
in  Tremont  Temple  was  held  in  a  small  audience  room, 
and  even  that  was  not  full.  The  war  occupied  the  minds 
of  people.  Besides,  we  were  going  to  a  "forlorn  hope," 
a  mission  that  had  nearly  been  given  up.  The  time  to  sail 
was  set  several  times.  Finally,  on  November  30,  1864, 
the  James  Guthrie  weighed  anchor,  not  to  touch  shore 
again  for  nearly  four  months. 

Few  ships  sailed  to  India  at  that  time.  We  were  in 
some  danger.  Ours  was  a  northern  ship,  and  our  cap- 
tain had  reason  to  fear  the  Alabama,  the  famous  south- 
ern privateer.  Whenever  a  ship  came  in  sight  he  hoisted 
the  Union  Jack  instead  of  the  American  flag.  I  ventured 
to  remonstrate  against  this  sailing  under  false  colors,  to 
which  he  replied,  "Would  you  rather  have  Captain 
Semmes  come  and  run  out  a  plank  and  ask  you  to  walk 
out  on  it?"  He  was  a  Swede,  and  did  not  sympathize 
with  me  when  I  told  him  I  was  an  American,  who  did  not 


60  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY  "IN   THE   ORIENT 

fear  Captain  Semmes  or  the  whole  Confederacy  but 
wanted  to  sail  under  true  colors. 

Our  hardships  on  this  voyage  were  many.  It  was  a 
ship  of  eight  hundred  tons,  loaded  with  ice,  lumber,  and 
apples.  We  were  the  only  passengers.  The  supplies  on 
board  were  wholly  inadequate.  We  ate  corn  meal  mush 
and  molasses  mostly,  and  were  glad  the  potatoes  held  out. 
The  captain  was  not  sufficiently  in  sympathy  with  us  to 
seek  our  comfort. 

Time  dragged  heavily.  I  had  a  number  of  books  of  a 
theological  nature  with  me,  and  was  reading  them.  Dr. 
Jewett  and  I  held  preaching  services  for  the  sailors,  and 
the  men  were  interested  in  the  tracts  I  gave  them.  Mrs. 
Clough,  though  often  not  well,  sang  hymns  at  our  meet- 
ings, to  which  we  all  were  glad  to  listen.  My  diary  tells 
of  a  morning,  early,  when  the  captain  called  me  on  deck. 
One  of  the  men  had  fallen  from  the  main  top  yard,  and 
lay  there  with  bones  broken.  We  had  to  set  them  and  put 
him  in  his  bunk.  This  increased  the  gloom.  When  near- 
ing  Ceylon  we  were  overtaken  by  a  severe  cyclone.  For 
several  hours  it  seemed  as  if  our  ship  was  not  of  a  kind 
or  size  to  weather  the  storm.  But  we  came  through. 

We  gave  an  account  of  our  hardships  in  our  first  letters 
to  Boston.  It  grieved  Dr.  Warren.  He  wrote  us  a  joint 
letter  in  which  he  said : 

"Your  dreadful  protracted  sufferings  cannot  be  avoided, 
they  cannot  be  alleviated ;  would  that  they  could  be.  May 
we  all  be  admonished  to  constant  vigilance  lest  others  suffer 
in  like  manner.  I  feel  for  you  all;  my  deepest,  tenderest 
sympathy  is  moved  for  Mrs.  Clough  and  the  little  boy. 
My  heart  has  ached  for  them,  and  now  it  would  be  a  relief 
if  I  could  bear  part  of  the  pang." 

Many  an  hour  Dr.  Jewett  and  I  sat  on  deck  together, 
busy  with  our  thoughts.    Sometimes  we  fell  to  talking. 


AROUND   THE   CAPE   TO   INDIA  6l 

Our  main  topic  was  the  Telugn  Mission.  Dr.  Jewett 
never  wearied  of  this.  I  was  an  eager  listener.  My  ap- 
pointment and  early  departure  had  been  so  sudden  that 
I  needed  to  adjust  myself  and  to  learn  something  of  the 
mission  to  which  I  was  going.  I  took  the  first  lessons  in 
my  apprenticeship.  Mr.  Day  had  thus  told  Dr.  Jewett 
what  had  been  done  during  the  first  twelve  years  of  the 
mission.  He  now  passed  this  on  to  me,  and  with  it  all 
that  lay  within  the  sixteen  years  of  his  own  experience.- 
Later  I  formed  a  link  with  the  past  to  many  a  new  man ; 
for  I  loved  to  talk  of  the  old  days. 

I  always  had  a  good  deal  of  respect  for  Rev.  Samuel 
S.  Day,  the  founder  of  our  mission.  He  was  at  home  in 
Canada  at  this  time.  I  never  met  him.  A  man  of  perse- 
verance, with  a  level  head,  faith  in  God,  and  faith  in  the 
work  given  him  to  do,  he  had  the  qualities  that  go  to 
make  the  founder  of  an  enterprise.  His  choice  of  Nel- 
lore  as  the  first  station  of  our  mission  could  not  have 
been  better.  It  formed  a  good  basis  for  operations.  He 
decided  on  this  in  1840  after  working  in  several  other 
places  for  four  years.  Scarcely  had  Mr.  Day  settled  in 
Nellore  when  he  began  to  look  in  the  direction  of  Ongole, 
a  town  seventy- four  miles  directly  north  of  Nellore,  and 
as  yet  wholly  unoccupied  by  missionary  enterprise.  He 
went  there  on  tour  in  1841,  and  when  he  returned  he  said 
to  his  wife,  "Ongole  will  in  time  make  the  great  center 
of  our  mission,  if  only  we  can  occupy  it."  She  remem- 
bered it,  and  afterward  told  her  children  about  it.  Dur- 
ing those  early  years  another  mission,  further  north, 
was  founded.  Ongole  was  about  midway  between  the 
two  missions.  One  cool  season  the  two  founders  of  the 
two  missions  met  while  touring.  They  pitched  their 
tents  together  and  exchanged  neighborly  courtesies.  In 
talking  of  many  things  connected  with  their  work  they 
also  discussed  the  occupancy  of  Ongole.  Both  founders 


62  SOCIAL    CHRISTIANITY   IN    THE    ORIENT 

wanted  it.  Mr.  Day  had  been  there  first  and  had  prac- 
tically occupied  it  as  an  outstation  of  Nellore.  He  quietly 
insisted  he  must  keep  Ongole.  The  other  man  gave  in; 
he  said,  "There  are  other  places;  if  you  Baptists  want 
to  begin  a  mission  here  I  will  go  elsewhere."  If  Mr.  Day 
had  taken  a  different  course,  and  had  extended  his  work 
in  another  direction,  the  whole  subsequent  history  of  our 
mission  would  have  been  changed.  Knowing  how  he 
had  laid  the  foundations,  no  wonder  that  he  could  not 
give  up  the  Telugu  Mission. 

After  ten  years  of  labor  the  time  came  for  Mr.  Day  to 
go  to  America  with  his  family.  Only  one  man  had  been 
sent  to  join  him  in  his  labors,  Rev.  S.  Van  Husen,  in 
1840.  After  five  years,  broken  in  health,  he  and  his  wife 
returned  to  America.  When  now  Mr.  Day  had  to 
leave  the  field  there  was  no  one  to  take  his  place.  He 
placed  responsibility  upon  two  Eurasians,  to  keep  up  the 
Sunday  services,  to  care  for  the  schools,  and  teach  in- 
quirers. They  had  done  good  service  while  he  was  there 
to  direct  them.  They  soon  proved  untrustworthy.  All 
that  had  been  built  up  was  laid  waste.  Those  two  years, 
1846-8,  were  the  darkest  years  in  all  the  history  of 
the  mission.  And  those  were  the  years  when  the  priva- 
tions of  the  pioneer  life  of  my  parents  pressed  me  sorely. 
The  lack  of  opportunities  made  life  dark  to  me.  In  look- 
ing back  it  seems  the  Telugu  Mission  and  I  kept  pace 
together.  Born  in  the  same  year,  oppressed  by  poverty 
during  the  same  years,  prosperous  together,  making  de- 
cisive moves  at  the  same  time — our  lives  were  knit  to- 
gether from  the  beginning. 

After  two  years  in  America,  with  health  restored,  Mr. 
Day  asked  to  be  sent  back  to  India.  Rev.  Lyman  Jewett 
was  under  appointment,  and  was  to  go  with  him.  At  the 
annual  meeting  of  1848  the  question  was  raised  why  this 
feeble  mission  should  be  continued — why  not  send  these 


AROUND   THE   CAPE   TO   INDIA  63 

two  men  to  some  other  more  promising  field  ?  Mr.  Day 
plead  for  the  life  of  his  mission.  He  knew  his  flock  was 
scattered,  and  sorrow  awaited  him  in  leaving  his  wife  and 
children  behind  in  America.  Nevertheless,  he  begged  to 
be  sent  back.  One  of  the  great  men  of  the  denomination 
came  forward  and  helped  him.  Dr.  William  R.  Williams 
brought  in  a  report  for  the  committee  to  which  this  ques- 
tion had  been  referred.  It  had  for  its  keynote:  "De- 
stroy it  not,  for  a  blessing  is  in  it."  He  was  one  of  the 
first  to  strike  the  prophetic  note  on  behalf  of  the  Telugu 
Mission  which  afterwards  became  characteristic. 

Dr.  Jewett  told  me  he  sat  during  that  meeting  and  lis- 
tened as  if  his  own  fate  were  in  the  balance.  He  and 
Mrs.  Jewett  went  out  with  Mr.  Day.  With  steady  hearts 
they  took  hold.  There  had  been  real  converts  in  Nel- 
lore,  though  few  in  number.  They  came  when  Mr.  Day 
called  them  back.  But  it  was  a  sad  state  of  affairs,  and 
often  the  Jewetts  heard  Mr.  Day  in  the  solitude  of  his 
own  room  praying  aloud  for  the  Telugu  Mission,  and 
sometimes  words  ceased  and  there  were  groans  as  if  in 
travail  of  soul.  Five  years  more  he  held  out,  and  then, 
with  health  permanently  impaired,  he  returned  to 
America. 

Now  the  Jewetts  stood  alone.  Mr.  Day  had  been  gone 
only  a  few  months,  when  letters  came  around  the  Cape, 
telling  the  Jewetts  that  an  order  had  almost  gone  forth 
to  them  to  sell  the  bungalow,  say  farewell  to  the  little 
group  of  Christians  in  Nellore  and  move  across  to  Burma 
to  work  there.  A  friend  wrote,  "If  the  society  gives  up 
the  mission,  what  field  shall  you  take  up,  Jewett?"  He 
replied,  "Then  Lyman  Jewett  will  stay  and  work  by  him- 
self with  the  Telugus." 

A  deputation  of  two  men  had  recently  visited  the  Asi- 
atic missions.  They  had  come  to  Nellore  and  had  re- 
ceived an  impression  unfavorable  to  the  continuance  of 


64  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY  IN   THE   ORIENT 

the  mission.  Therefore  they  recommended  to  the  so- 
ciety that  the  Telugu  Mission  be  closed  and  the  Burma 
missions  be  thereby  enlarged.  The  Baptists  at  that  time 
had  few  missions,  but  those  few  were  cherished.  None 
had  made  so  deep  an  impression  upon  the  minds  of  the 
people  as  the  missions  in  Burma.  The  story  of  Adoniram 
Judson  had  touched  all  hearts.  As  the  years  passed,  and 
the  Telugu  Mission  continued  to  give  no  evidence  of  spe- 
cial divine  favor,  the  question  continually  rose  to  the 
surface :  Why  not  abandon  this,  and  concentrate  where 
success  is  certain? 

A  crucial  time  had  now  come.  At  the  annual  meeting 
in  Albany,  May,  1853,  tne  report  of  the  deputation  was 
received.  Preliminary  work  had  been  done  by  the  Board. 
A  committee  to  whom  the  subject  was  intrusted  recom- 
mended that  the  Telugu  Mission  be  continued  and  re- 
enforced.  It  was  the  demand  of  the  hour  that  the  subject 
be  laid  before  the  society  then  in  session.  Part  of  one 
evening  was  given  to  discussion.  Men  wanted  oppor- 
tunity to  speak  for  or  against.  It  was  taken  up  again 
the  next  morning  and  concluded  in  a  way  wholly  beyond 
the  ordinary.  Dr.  Jewett  treasured  everything  he  had 
heard  or  read  about  this  meeting  like  so  much  sacred  his- 
tory. As  he  told  me  about  it  there  on  that  ship,  it  stirred 
me  greatly. 

Dr.  Edward  Bright,  in  a  powerful  address,  described 
how  the  little  group  of  church  members  at  Nellore  would 
feel  when  they  learned  that  American  Baptists  had  aban- 
doned them.  He  was  the  one  who  would  have  to  write 
the  letter  to  them:  it  was  something  he  did  not  care  to 
face.  He  walked  up  and  down  the  platform  reiterating 
the  question,  "And  who  shall  write  the  letter?" 

A  large  map  of  Baptist  missions  was  hanging  over 
the  pulpit.  On  one  side  of  the  Bay  of  Bengal  was  a 
thick  cluster  of  stars,  representing  mission  stations  in 


AROUND   THE   CAPE  TO   INDIA  65 

Burma.  On  the  other  side  was  just  one  star,  indicating 
the  Nellore  station  in  the  Telugu  country.  Some  one  in 
the  heat  of  argument  pointed  to  it  and  called  it  a  "Lone 
Star."  There  was  one  in  that  audience  who  was  touched 
by  the  expression  "Lone  Star."  He  was  the  man  who 
gave  to  the  American  people  their  national  anthem,  "My 
Country,  Tis  of  Thee"  :  Dr.  S.  F.  Smith.  Next  morning 
at  his  breakfast  table  Judge  Ira  Harris  asked  Dr.  Smith's 
opinion  about  the  question  to  be  decided  at  the  meeting  of 
that  morning.  He  took  a  slip  of  paper  out  of  his  pocket, 
on  which  he  had  written  a  poem  overnight,  and  said, 
"You  have  it  here." 

Judge  Harris  kept  the  slip  of  paper.  During  the  dis- 
cussion of  the  morning,  while  the  fate  of  the  Telugu  Mis- 
sion was  hanging  in  the  balance,  he  read  the  six  stanzas 
to  the  assemblage  with  thrilling  effect.  It  was  the  famous 
"Lone  Star"  poem. 

Shine  on,  "Lone  Star!"    Thy  radiance  bright 
Shall  spread  o'er  all  the  eastern  sky; 

Morn  breaks  apace  from  gloom  and  night; 
Shine  on,  and  bless  the  pilgrim's  eye. 

Shine  on,  "Lone  Star!"  I  would  not  dim 
The  light  that  gleams  with  dubious  ray; 

The  lonely  star  of  Bethlehem 
Led  on  a  bright  and  glorious  day. 

Shine  on,  "Lone  Star !"  in  grief  and  tears, 

And  sad  reverses  oft  baptized; 
Shine  on  amid  thy  sister  spheres ; 

Lone  stars  in  heaven  are  not  despised. 

Shine  on,  "Lone  Star!"  Who  lifts  his  hand 

To  dash  to  earth  so  bright  a  gem, 
A  new  "lost  pleiad"  from  the  band 

That  sparkles  in  night's  diadem? 


66  SOCIAL    CHRISTIANITY   IN    THE    ORIENT 

Shine  on,  "Lone  Star !"    The  day  draws  near 
When  none  shall  shine  more  fair  than  thou ; 

Thou,  born  and  nursed  in  doubt  and  fear, 
Wilt  glitter  on  Immanuel's  brow. 

Shine  on,  "Lone  Star!"  till  earth  redeemed, 

In  dust  shall  bid  its  idols  fall; 
And  thousands,  where  thy  radiance  beamed, 

Shall  "crown  the  Saviour  Lord  of  all." 

Those  who  were  present  said  there  was  that  in  the 
lines,  and  in  the  impressive  way  in  which  they  were  read, 
that  shook  the  audience,  already  strung-  to  a  high  pitch. 
Many  wept.  The  Baptists  could  not  have-  endured  it  if 
their  Telugu  Mission  had  been  abandoned.  It  was  saved. 
Long  years  after  men  marveled  at  this  meeting.  The 
large  audience  was  swayed  as  by  a  prophetic  impulse. 
They  seemed  to  have  forgotten  that  they  were  debating 
the  fate  of  one  little  mission  station.  If  they  had  seen 
before  their  eyes  the  multitude  pressing  into  the  Kingdom 
in  that  Telugu  Mission  in  years  to  come  they  could  not 
have  been  more  deeply  concerned.  Dr.  Jewett  carried  a 
clipping  of  the  "Lone  Star"  poem  around  with  him  in  his 
pocket  wherever  he  went.  It  was  an  anchor  to  his  faith. 
He  showed  it  to  me.  He  had  cut  it  out  of  a  New  York 
paper,  that  came  to  him  in  India,  bringing  a  report  of 
that  meeting.  It  was  at  that  time  a  piece  of  forgotten 
history,  but  he  cherished  it. 

In  our  talks  Dr.  Jewett  often  referred  to  Ongole.  That 
place  had  been  to  him  as  the  apple  of  his  eye.  He  had  a 
compound  there,  and  a  bungalow,  all  waiting,  year  after 
year,  for  one  who  should  labor  there.  During  his  so- 
journs at  Ongole  he  had  often  noticed  a  piece  of  land,  lo- 
cated close  to  the  town,  yet  a  little  to  one  side.  It  seemed 
to  him  just  right  for  a  mission  compound.  The  ruins  of  a 
bungalow  were  there.  It  had  been  the  club  of  a  regi- 


AROUND  THE  CAPE  TO  INDIA  67 

ment  stationed  at  Ongole  during  the  time  of  the  East 
India  Company.  The  years  had  passed,  and  then  there 
came  a  time  when  the  place  was  made  habitable.  A  sub- 
judge  of  Ongole,  who  could  command  the  resources  of 
the  place,  wanted  to  build  at  small  expense.  He  pro- 
cured the  services  of  a  gang  of  prisoners  to  clear  away 
the  cactus,  grown  man-high,  which  covered  the  eleven 
acres  of  land.  He  received  permission  to  take  the  stone 
from  the  fort  of  the  Ongole  rajah,  recently  deposed,  for 
building  material.  Some  teak  timber,  floated  over  from 
Burma,  had  been  found  lying  on  the  beach  ten  miles 
away.  It  furnished  wood  for  doors  and  windows.  He 
now  built  on  the  ruins  of  the  old  club  house.  It  cost  him 
little  more  than  the  labor.  The  sub  judge  lived  there, 
but  was  likely  to  be  transferred  at  any  time.  Dr.  Jewett 
wondered  how  to  get  hold  of  this  property. 

He  was  on  friendly  terms  with  the  English  officials  at 
Ongole,  and  often,  when  they  came  to  Nellore,  they  called 
on  the  Jewetts,  and  took  a  cup  of  tea  with  them.  During 
a  visit  of  that  kind  Dr.  Jewett  told  one  of  them  that  he 
wanted  that  property  for  his  mission.  The  man  soon 
took  steps  to  help  him.  The  sub  judge  was  leaving  and 
sold  it  for  1,500  rupees  to  the  English  magistrate.  He 
now  sold  it  to  Dr.  Jewett's  caller,  who  lost  no  time  in 
offering  it  to  the  mission  at  the  original  low  rate. 

Meanwhile  Dr.  Jewett  had  written  to  Dr.  Warren  and 
asked  for  an  appropriation  for  the  house.  It  could  not 
be  granted.  But  Dr.  Warren  added  a  postscript :  "Keep 
your  eye  on  that  house,  and  remember  that  you  have  a 
friend  in  the  Indian  territory."  The  Jewetts  hired  money 
from  the  bazaar  at  interest  and  gave  their  note  for  the 
rest.  The  house  was  theirs,  bought  with  borrowed 
money.  Dr.  Jewett  now  wrote  to  his  school  friend  be- 
yond the  Mississippi.  He  replied,  "My  dear  brother,  I 
had  some  of  the  Lord's  money  in  my  hands.  I  had  not 


68  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY  IN   THE   ORIENT 

read  more  than  three  lines  of  your  letter  before  I  knew 
what  to  do  with  it.  You  asked  for  seven  hundred  and 
fifty  dollars.  I  send  you  nine  hundred  and  fifty." 

That  man,  Reuben  Wright,  was  a  powerful  factor  in 
those  early  days  of  the  Telugu  Mission.  Wholly  in  the 
background,  he  nevertheless  furnished  "the  sinews  of 
war."  Years  before,  too  poor  to  continue  at  school  in 
Boston,  he  went  to  the  Far  West  and  made  much  money. 
On  a  visit  to  Boston  he  attended  revival  meetings.  He 
began  to  feel  that  he  must  save  his  soul  by  giving  his 
money.  Some  one  took  him  to  Dr.  Warren.  He  said  he 
wanted  to  support  a  missionary.  Dr.  Warren  read  him 
a  list  of  names.  He  came  to  Lyman  Jewett.  The  man 
stopped  him,  and  repeated  the  name  several  times,  and 
added,  "I  remember  his  prayers  when  we  were  at  school 
together.  Yes,  I  will  take  him."  Year  after  year  he  paid 
Dr.  Jewett's  salary  into  the  treasury.  He  paid  for  mis- 
sion property.  He  was  interested  in  Mrs.  Jewett's 
schools.  When  at  all  times  Dr.  Jewett  refused  stead- 
fastly to  abandon  the  Telugu  Mission  his  confidence  was 
upheld  by  the  friend  God  had  given  him.  There  was 
hard  cash  there,  and  with  it  the  faith  of  the  man  who 
gave  it,  and  of  the  man  and  the  woman  who  were  doing 
the  holding  on,  tenaciously. 

I  listened  to  these  stories  with  deep  interest.  I  felt 
their  power.  Then  one  day  Dr.  Jewett  told  me  of  an  ex- 
perience which  came  to  him  in  connection  with  Ongole. 
It  afterwards  became  a  story  told  hundreds  of  times  in 
missionary  meetings  and  in  print.  At  that  time  Dr. 
Jewett  kept  it  hidden  in  his  own  heart.  As  yet  there  was 
no  fulfillment.  Perhaps  he  began  to  wonder  whether  it 
did  not  concern  me.  It  happened  a  few  months  after 
he  heard  of  the  Albany  meeting.  He  was  in  a  frame  of 
mind  for  a  spiritual  uplifting.  With  wife  and  children 
he  had  gone  to  Ongole  on  a  lengthy  preaching  tour.  The 


"...  They  proposed 
to  him  the  relinquishmcnt 
of  the  Telugu  Mission. 
They  found  him  immov- 
able. His  faith  told  him 
that  'God  has  much  people 
among  the  Telugus.' 


LYMAN    JEWETT,    D.D. 


• 


" ...  He  left  the  hill 
strongly  convinced  that  the 
man  for  Ongole  was  coming. 
.  .  .  I  had  u-antcd  to  be- 
come a  lawyer  and  a  poli- 
tician ....  Did  that  hill- 
top meeting  offer  any  solu- 
tion to  these  peculiar  rever- 
sals in  my  lifef  .  .  ." 


PRAYER   MEETING  HILL 


AROUND   THE   CAPE  TO   INDIA  69 

end  of  the  year  had  come.  There  were  some  low  hills, 
close  to  Ongole.  They  decided  to  go  up  on  one  of  these 
hilltops  to  pray,  early  the  first  morning  of  the  new  year, 
1854.  They  were  five  in  number,  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Jewett, 
Nursu,  one  of  the  first  regular  preachers  in  the  mission, 
Julia,  the  first  fruit  of  Mrs.  Jewett's  school,  and  Ruth, 
another  of  the  early  helpers.  They  sang  together;  they 
prayed  together,  one  after  another.  Dr.  Jewett  stood 
up  and  looked  over  the  plain  before  him,  dotted  with 
villages,  perhaps  fifty  of  them  in  full  sight,  in  the  radi- 
ance of  the  dawn.  He  said,  "As  the  sun  is  now  about 
to  rise  and  shine  upon  the  earth,  so  may  the  Sun  of 
Righteousness  arise  quickly  and  shine  upon  this  dark 
land."  He  pointed  to  that  piece  of  ground,  all  overgrown 
with  cactus,  and  asked,  "Would  you  not  like  that  spot 
for  our  mission  bungalow,  and  all  this  land  to  become 
Christian?  Well,  Nursu,  Julia,  that  day  will  come."  It 
was  seven  years  after  that  time  that  the  mission  property 
came  into  his  possession. 

The  burden  on  his  heart,  as  he  stood  on  that  hilltop, 
was  the  man  for  Ongole.  He  told  me  that  by  the  time  he 
left  the  hill  he  felt  strongly  convinced  within  himself 
that  the  man  was  coming.  I  confess  that  this  stirred  me. 
I  did  not  know  whether  I  was  that  man.  No  one,  as  yet, 
had  said  so.  I  reckoned  back.  At  the  time  of  the  meet- 
ing in  Albany  the  surveyors  came  and  took  me  out  of  my 
father's  house  at  a  few  hours'  notice.  At  the  time  of 
that  hilltop  meeting  I  was  making  my  first  attempt  to  get 
an  education.  It  was  still  fresh  in  my  memory  how  I 
had  wanted  to  become  a  lawyer  and  a  politician,  and  was 
always  thwarted  in  this,  and  made  to  go  in  a  direction 
which  was  not  of  my  own  choosing.  Did  that  hilltop 
meeting  offer  any  solution  to  these  peculiar  reversals  in 
my  life?  The  thought  filled  my  mind.  In  my  letters  of 
the  first  years  in  India  I  often  spoke  of  the  "Lone  Star" 


7O  SOCIAL    CHRISTIANITY   IN    THE    ORIENT 

Mission ;  I  referred  to  "Prayer  Meeting  Hill,"  as  I  called 
it.  Back  there,  on  that  old  sailing  vessel,  with  nothing 
else  to  think  about,  my  energies  all  pent  up,  I  began  to 
wheel  myself  into  line.  I  breathed  an  atmosphere  of 
faith  and  expectancy.  With  all  my  heart  I  was  ready  to 
go  to  work  and  see  some  of  those  hopes  realized. 

Our  ship,  after  rounding  the  Cape,  came  at  last  in 
sight  of  Ceylon.  On  a  Sunday  morning  we  sighted 
Madras.  The  captain  had  heard  me  say  I  hoped  we 
would  not  land  on  a  Sunday.  When  now  we  were  be- 
calmed as  we  neared  the  harbor,  very  difficult  of  approach 
at  that  time,  he  feared  we  would  drift  ashore,  and  grew 
excited.  He  attributed  the  calm  to  me,  and  used  some 
very  bad  language  about  missionaries,  and  declared  it 
was  the  last  company  he  would  ever  have  on  a  ship  of 
his.  His  ire  subsided  when  a  breeze  came  and  wafted 
us  into  harbor  just  as  the  sun  was  setting.  Some  fisher- 
men came  alongside  the  ship  on  catamarans  with  fish  for 
sale.  They  were  repulsive  in  appearance.  These  were 
the  first  human  beings  we  had  seen,  except  at  a  long  dis- 
tance, for  one  hundred  and  nine  days.  The  contrast  was 
between  Boston  and  all  that  that  meant  to  us  and  the 
Hindus,  according  to  their  representatives  before  us.  I 
confess  that  I  was  heart-sick.  My  enthusiasm  was  greatly 
checked,  and  for  a  time  I  more  than  half  wished  myself 
back  in  America. 

The  next  morning,  March  26,  1865,  a  note  was 
brought  on  board  from  a  friend  of  Dr.  Jewett,  inviting 
us  to  come  to  his  house.  His  carriage  was  waiting  for 
us  at  the  beach.  The  house  was  decorated  with  Ameri- 
can flags,  and  a  good  breakfast  was  waiting  for  us.  We 
were  safely  landed. 

We  tarried  in  Madras  three  weeks,  and  then  made  the 
journey  of  one  hundred  and  eight  miles  to  Nellore  in 


AROUND   THE   CAPE   TO   INDIA  71 

slow  stages.  We  went  in  bullock  carts,  at  the  rate  of 
thirty  miles  a  night,  staying  during  the  heat  of  the  day  in 
the  rest  houses  at  intervals  along  the  road.  We  arrived 
in  Nellore  April  22,  1865,  in  the  midst  of  the  hot  season, 
and  received  a  glad  welcome  from  the  native  Christians. 


VI 

MY   APPRENTICESHIP    AT    MISSIONS 

NELLORE  was  at  this  time  a  town  of  about  26,000 
inhabitants,  a  center  of  trade  and  travel,  and  the  head- 
quarters of  the  chief  officials  of  the  Nellore  district. 
The  mission  compound  with  its  shade  trees  and  flowering 
shrubs  was  situated  on  a  frequented  road  on  the  out- 
skirts of  the  town.  Many  who  passed  that  way  looked 
into  the  thatch-covered  chapel  close  to  the  road,  and 
stayed  a  while  to  learn  about  the  new  religion. 

There  was  a  good,  substantial  mission  bungalow,  built 
by  Mr.  Day  in  1841.  It  had  been  the  home  of  the  Jewetts 
since  1848.  Rev.  F.  A.  Douglass  and  his  wife  had  joined 
them  in  1855.  They  were  now  the  occupants,  and  were 
waiting  for  our  arrival,  so  that  with  their  children  they 
might  sail  for  America  after  ten  years  of  service.  This 
bungalow  became  our  home,  shared  with  Dr.  Jewett. 
Mrs.  Clough  and  I  eagerly  entered  into  the  life  and  work 
of  this  mission  station.  We  soon  felt  an  interest  in  the 
native  Christians,  who  were  thirty  in  number.  There 
were  inquirers,  people  who  came  and  went.  Children 
had  been  gathered  into  the  school;  the  promising  ones 
among  them  were  watched  over  with  much  care,  in  the 
hope  that  they  would  become  useful  workers  in  the  mis- 
sion. We  put  our  shoulder  to  the  load,  ready  to  carry 
our  share. 

At  that  time  little  was  known  of  the  Oriental  races. 

72 


MY   APPRENTICESHIP   AT    MISSIONS  73 

Christian  people  took  it  for  granted  that  the  older  relig- 
ions were  wholly  bad,  and  that  their  scriptures  contained 
nothing  but  evil.  There  was  no  sympathetic  approach, 
no  feeling  that  perhaps  God  had  not  left  himself  unre- 
vealed  to  the  heathen  world.  It  distressed  many  thought- 
ful men  and  women  in  Christian  lands  to  think  that  the 
rest  of  the  world  was  given  over  to  sin,  and  that  unless 
the  heathen  heard  the  gospel  of  Jesus  Christ,  and  accepted 
it,  they  would  be  eternally  lost.  This  was  my  opinion,  too, 
when  I  went  to  India.  It  formed  my  missionary  motive. 
I  looked  upon  the  Hindus  as  simply  heathen ;  I  wanted  to 
see  them  converted.  As  the  years  passed  I  grew  tolerant 
and  often  told  the  caste  people,  if  they  could  not,  or 
would  not,  receive  Jesus  Christ  as  their  Saviour,  to  serve 
their  own  gods  faithfully.  During  my  visits  to  America 
I  sometimes  told  American  audiences  that  the  Hindus 
were  in  some  respects  better  than  they.  I  told  them  to 
wake  up,  and  be  true  Christians,  or  else  the  Hindus 
would  come  over  to  America  and  try  to  convert  the 
Americans. 

During  our  stay  in  Madras  after  our  arrival  I  was 
deeply  interested  in  the  missionary  situation  there.  A 
number  of  societies  had  planted  a  mission  in  this  large 
city,  with  its  teeming  population,  speaking  several  lan- 
guages. Dr.  Jewett  knew  the  group  of  missionaries  in 
Madras.  We  were  received  with  much  brotherly  spirit. 
Men  who  were  afterwards  the  seniors  in  their  societies 
were  here,  still  young,  busy  forming  methods.  Some 
were  engaged  in  educational  work.  Once  more  I  was 
tempted  to  turn  away  from  preaching.  A  large  institu- 
tion with  six  hundred  students  was  without  a  principal. 
I  was  asked  whether  I  would  consider  an  offer  favorably ; 
it  would  then  be  made  officially.  I  told  them  No,  I  could 
not  stay.  It  was  partly  loyalty  to  my  society,  partly  my 
feeling  that  I  must  preach. 


74  SOCIAL    CHRISTIANITY   IN    THE   ORIENT 

Though  I  wanted  to  become  an  evangelistic  missionary, 
I  saw  no  reason  why  I  should  not  write  books  and  make 
translations  and  do  the  work  of  a  scholar  in  the  intervals 
of  preaching.  I  tried  if.  I  sat  over  my  books,  and  gave 
half  an  ear  to  inquirers  who  came.  I  made  up  my  mind 
that  I  must  give  this  up.  I  wanted  to  preach,  and  decided 
to  do  it  with  all  my  heart  and  all  my  strength. 

In  that  formative  period  of  my  missionary  career  I  was 
full  of  enthusiasm.  Those  who  knew  me  then  say  I  dis- 
played the  greatest  faith  in  expecting  the  Hindus  to 
leave  their  gods  and  come  to  Christ.  In  my  prayers  I 
asked  that  the  whole  Telugu  country  might  be  converted. 
I  talked  of  schemes  for  converting  the  people  in  large 
numbers.  If  difficulties  were  pointed  out  to  me  I  made 
light  of  them.  I  believed  the  Hindu  religion  must  be 
attacked  boldly,  and  thought  the  older  missionaries  had 
not  done  this.  Existing  missionary  methods  seemed  too 
slow.  I  wanted  to  work  a  change — to  strike  out  on  inde- 
pendent lines.  Perhaps  that  was  the  attitude  which  the 
Lord  Jesus  wanted  me  to  have.  All  my  schemes  and 
plans  were  knocked  over  when  he  sent  me  the  Pariahs 
in  large  numbers — after  that  my  methods  were  made  for 
me.  All  I  did  then  was  to  follow  and  trust  the  Lord 
Jesus  to  help  me  and  show  me  what  to  do. 

I  learned  much  from  Dr.  Jewett,  and  was  willing  to  be 
guided  by  him  as  my  teacher.  In  later  years,  when 
young  men  were  coming  and  going  in  Ongole,  learning 
the  ways  of  missionary  life,  I  sometimes  told  them  that 
during  my  apprenticeship  I  did  everything  Dr.  Jewett 
told  me  to  do.  They  laughed  at  me  for  this,  and  said 
they  had  no  doubt  I  tried  hard  enough,  but  perhaps  with 
indifferent  success.  It  is  true,  however,  that  Dr.  Jewett 
taught  me  the  missionary  methods  which  were  in  general 
practice  at  that  time.  I  never  wholly  set  them  aside. 
The  movement  among  the  Madigas  only  added  new  meth- 


MY   APPRENTICESHIP   AT    MISSIONS  75 

ods,  which  I  was  bound  to  follow,  lest  I  hinder  the  devel- 
opment. 

During  the  first  months  in  Nellore  I  was  much  with 
Dr.  Jewett.  I  watched  his  ways  of  dealing  with  the  na- 
tive people.  They  were  beautiful,  fatherly  ways.  The 
people  loved  him.  He  was  eminently  meek  and  gentle 
and  kind.  I  was  not  meek  by  nature.  That  I  had  him 
before  me  as  a  pattern  during  that  year  and  a  half  of 
my  apprenticeship  was  one  of  the  blessings  of  my  mis- 
sionary life.  He  sometimes  said  to  me,  "If  we  two  could 
have  been  mixed  together  and  then  divided  into  halves  it 
would  have  been  better  for  us  both."  He  with  his  meek- 
ness was  at  one  extreme,  I  with  my  somewhat  fiery  dis- 
position was  at  the  other  extreme.  The  Telugu  Mission 
had  need  of  us  both. 

His  devotion  to  his  Master,  Jesus,  was  very  great.  It 
is  one  of  the  stories  still  told  about  him  among  the  de- 
scendants of  those  who  knew  him,  that  one  day,  when  he 
was  preaching  in  the  bazaar  to  a  group  of  people,  a  young 
Mohammedan  took  a  handful  of  sand,  threw  it  at  him, 
and  ran  away.  He  brushed  the  sand  away,  and  beckoned 
to  the  young  man,  "Come  back,  I  want  to  tell  you  about 
Jesus."  I  suppose  this  story  is  true,  but  it  is  equally 
true  that  if  I  had  been  there  that  young  fellow  would 
have  run  much  faster  and  farther  than  he  did.  I  loved 
Dr.  Jewett;  I  could  not  have  allowed  any  disrespect  to 
him,  not  even  for  the  sake  of  his  message.  One  day 
in  those  early  months  in  Nellore,  we  went  to  the  riverside 
together.  People  came  there  toward  evening,  and  he 
found  an  audience.  A  young  man  began  to  dance  and 
laugh  and  clap  his  hands,  trying  to  disturb  Dr.  Jewett. 
I  soon  could  stand  no  more  of  that.  I  walked  up  near 
to  that  fellow,  and  next  he  found  himself  in  the  river, 
shallow  in  that  place,  but  the  cool  water  made  him  sober. 

I  worked  hard  all  day,  learning  the  Telugu  language. 


76  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN   THE   ORIENT 

My  teacher  was  a  Christian  young  man  who  wanted  to 
become  a  preacher.  I  therefore  taught  him  an  hour  every 
day  in  Dr.  Alvah  Hovey's  book  of  theology.  When  the 
sun  began  to  go  down  we  put  our  books  aside  and  went 
for  long  walks.  I  had  my  eyes  open  then;  for  it  is  as 
necessary  to  learn  the  people  as  it  is  to  learn  their  lan- 
guage. I  began  to  talk  with  those  we  met,  learning  to 
form  sentences,  and  the  replies  began  to  sound  familiar. 
There  were  places  to  which  we  went  frequently.  People 
soon  knew  us  and  looked  for  us.  One  of  these  preaching- 
places  was  where  four  or  five  roads  met.  After  a  time  I 
noticed  that  when  people  came  within  a  certain  distance 
of  me  they  held  their  hands  to  their  ears  and  ran.  I  said 
to  my  teacher,  "Why  are  they  doing  thus  ?"  He  replied, 
"They  believe  you  are  a  man  sent  from  God.  If  they 
hear  your  message  they  will  be  held  accountable.  There- 
fore they  close  their  ears  and  run  that  they  may  be  as  if 
they  had  not  heard." 

There  was  a  hamlet  near  Nellore  to  which  we  went 
often.  The  place  where  we  stood  and  talked  with  the 
people  was  close  to  the  house  of  a  Mala  priest,  Tupili 
Lutchmiah,  who  went  with  his  idols  to  thirty  villages, 
round  about,  and  conducted  worship.  He  was  prosper- 
ous as  a  priest.  Out  of  curiosity  he  came  to  hear  what 
we  had  to  say.  Then  he  grew  angry;  he  found  himself 
believing  and  realized  that  the  foundations  of  his  life 
were  tottering.  He  shut  the  door  of  his  house  and  told 
his  wife  not  to  listen  to  us.  Then,  one  day,  he  told  me 
he  wanted  to  be  a  Christian,  and  asked  me  what  he  must 
do  to  be  saved.  I  talked  with  him  till  dark,  and  then  at 
his  request  left  a  colporter  with  him  to  pray.  Two  hours 
later  he  sent  me  word  to  give  thanks  to  God  on  his  be- 
half, for  he  had  found  the  Saviour.  This  man  was  the 
first  fruit  of  my  labor  in  India.  He  was  baptized  Decem- 
ber 24,  1865. 


MY   APPRENTICESHIP   AT    MISSIONS  77 

Now  trouble  began.  The  people  to  whom  he  had  gone 
with  his  idols  to  conduct  worship  feared  that  without  his 
ceremonies  and  invocations  calamities  would  come  upon 
them;  their  cattle  would  die;  their  crops  would  wither. 
Since  he  himself  was  lost  to  them,  they  demanded  the 
idols.  He  was  afraid  they  would  mob  his  house  and 
take  them  by  force.  He  brought  them  to  me  to  keep 
where  no  one  could  worship  them.  Then  we  were  in 
danger.  The  head  of  the  police  force  heard  of  this.  He 
offered  to  send  a  constable  to  guard  us.  I  thought  this 
unnecessary,  but  took  his  advice  and  stayed  in  the  house 
after  dark.  The  trouble  passed. 

The  habits  of  my  life  as  colporter  in  Iowa  were  strong 
upon  me.  I  had  to  adjust  myself  to  the  fact  that  I  was 
now  working  in  a  country  where  few  could  read,  outside 
that  privileged  class,  the  Brahmans.  I  did  not  wait  until 
I  had  a  grammatical  knowledge  of  the  Telugu  language. 
I  learned  by  heart  in  Telugu  the  verse,  "God  so  loved  the 
world  that  he  gave  his  only  begotten  Son,  that  whoso- 
ever believeth  on  him  should  not  perish  but  have  ever- 
lasting life."  With  this  verse  I  went  out  into  the  streets 
of  Nellore,  before  I  could  say  anything  else,  and  wher- 
ever I  could  get  a  native  to  stand  still  and  listen  to  me  I 
told  him  this  verse.  I  was  continually  distributing  tracts. 
If  a  man  told  me,  "I  cannot  read,"  I  asked  him  to  go  to 
some  one  who  could,  and  for  a  small  copper  coin  get  the 
tract  read  which  I  was  holding  out  to  him.  Tracts  be- 
came common  in  Nellore.  The  merchants  used  them  for 
wrapping  paper  when  small  quantities  of  spices  were  re- 
quired. Pieces  of  tracts  thus  found  entrance  into  Nel- 
lore homes  otherwise  closed.  Some  of  those  tracts  hit 
the  mark :  men  were  saved. 

Soon  I  began  to  want  a  tract  that  would  tell  the  people 
my  message  in  my  own  words.  With  my  Telugu  teacher 
always  at  hand,  ready  to  cooperate  with  me,  I  wrote  one 


78  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN   THE   ORIENT 

entitled  "Where  are  You  Going?"  It  was  direct  in  its 
language,  and  was  a  sermon  in  a  nut-shell.  Then  I 
worked  on  a  larger  tract,  really  a  booklet,  "Messages  for 
All."  It  was  not  completed  till  after  I  had  settled  in 
Ongole.  This  became  practically  the  text-book  in  the 
movement  among  the  Madigas.  I  had  brought  into  it  a 
collection  of  Bible  verses  on  the  different  phases  of  Chris- 
tian experience.  I  tried  to  put  the  whole  gospel  into  it. 
If  a  man  comprehended  the  verses,  one  after  another,  in 
that  little  book,  he  knew  enough  of  the  truth  as  it  is  in 
Jesus  Christ  to  be  saved.  In  the  years  that  followed, 
many  editions  of  these  tracts  were  printed,  thousands 
at  a  time.  They  did  a  great  work  in  being  tools  in  the 
hands  of  our  preachers  and  teachers. 

There  was  a  large  temple  in  Nellore.  The  time  came 
for  the  annual  temple  festival.  People  from  the  villages 
outside  of  Nellore  were  coming  to  celebrate.  Everyone 
was  in  a  frame  of  mind  to  forget  for  a  short  time  the 
daily  pursuits  and  engage  in  religious  observances.  I 
had  one  thousand  copies  of  my  tract,  "Where  are  You 
Going?"  ready  for  the  occasion.  During  the  days  of  the 
festival  I  took  my  place  on  a  pile  of  stones  lying  on  a 
street  where  the  people  were  passing  in  throngs.  All 
were  talking,  full  of  excitement,  moving  along  ready  to 
be  interested  in  all  they  saw.  I  made  myself  heard  above 
the  din  of  voices,  as  I  shouted  to  them  to  take  one  of  the 
tracts  I  was  holding  in  my  hands.  One  thousand  of  them 
were  given  away,  one  by  one,  into  the  hands  of  the 
people  during  the  days  of  that  festival.  There  were  con- 
versions afterwards.  This  was  a  method  of  reaching  peo- 
ple much  in  use  at  that  time.  The  missionaries  in  north- 
ern India,  especially,  employed  it.  The  appeal  made  at  a 
time  when  the  people  were  in  a  responsive  mood,  ready 
to  be  swayed  by  religious  impulses,  was  often  effective. 
But  it  reached  their  hearts  while  away  from  home,  de- 


MY   APPRENTICESHIP   AT    MISSIONS  7Q 

tached  from  their  accustomed  surroundings.  The  move- 
ment among1  the  Madigas  taught  me  to  take  the  people 
in  their  villages,  and  to  Christianize  the  village. 

It  was  my  custom  to  go  out  to  one  of  the  hamlets  of 
Nellore  every  Sunday  afternoon.  I  could  talk  with  the 
people  a  little,  but  I  could  not  yet  preach.  One  of  the 
regular  preachers  of  the  mission  went  with  me.  We  se- 
lected a  central  place  in  the  hamlet,  where  there  was 
shade,  and  invited  the  people  to  come  out  of  their  huts 
and  form  a  group  of  listeners.  Often  they  held  back. 
I  used  my  own  method  of  encouraging  them  to  come. 
The  vein  of  mirth  and  fun  in  my  nature  was  bound  to 
assert  itself.  I  had  learned  in  my  work  with  Americans 
that  if  I  wanted  to  come  in  touch  with  a  group  of  lis- 
teners I  must  first  laugh  with  them.  The  Telugus  were 
not  different  in  that  respect ;  only  I  had  to  adjust  myself 
to  their  sense  of  humor.  If  a  man  refused  to  come  be- 
cause he  had  no  coat  to  wear  I  took  mine  off  and  put  it 
on  him,  and  thus  marched  him  to  the  preaching-place. 
Every  face  by  that  time  was  happy  with  amusement.  My 
sense  of  humor  was  part  of  my  natural  equipment,  and  I 
did  not  restrain  it  when  I  began  my  work  in  India. 

During  all  my  apprenticeship  I  sat  at  the  feet  of  Dr. 
Warren.  He  brought  me  into  contact  with  the  deep 
spiritual  meaning  of  the  missionary's  work.  With  a  firm 
hand  he  had  upheld  the  Telugu  Mission  thus  far.  He 
had  marked  me  as  the  man  for  it.  He  now  watched  me 
in  my  development.  It  was  not  long  before  he  saw  that 
the  independence  in  method  which  I  had  developed  in 
my  pioneer  life  on  the  Western  prairies  was  going  to  be 
applied  to  my  work  in  India.  He  wanted  to  see  this  in- 
dependence brought  under  the  guidance  of  the  Holy 
Spirit,  and  was  ready  then,  in  any  given  situation,  to 
believe  that  I  was  doing  as  Jesus  wanted  me  to  do.  Dr. 
Warren  was  strong  in  the  idea  of  democracy  in  Baptist 


80  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN   THE   ORIENT 

churches.  His  position  all  through  was :  when  a  mis- 
sionary is  in  the  hands  of  the  Holy  Spirit  we  as  a  de- 
nomination must  fall  into  line  and  upheld  him,  because 
we  sent  him  out  there.  I  sensed  this  attitude  in  him  from 
the  beginning.  It  affected  me  in  the  hidden  depths  of 
my  missionary  motive. 

In  my  letters  of  those  early  years  Dr.  Warren  saw  that 
I  was  forming  human  contacts  everywhere.  There  was 
attraction  and  there  was  repulsion.  Twice  during  my 
apprenticeship  a  mob  was  ready  to  fall  upon  our  mission 
house.  He  wrote  me  a  long  letter,  in  which  he  taught  me 
how  to  get  hold  of  people  in  order  to  bring  them  to 
Jesus.  He  did  not  want  me  to  sit  in  the  mission  house 
studying  my  Bible,  keeping  up  in  due  form  the  Sunday 
services,  praying  and  singing  and  preaching.  He  wanted 
me  to  break  forth  on  all  sides.  "Those  people  will  be- 
lieve in  you  first  as  the  representative  of  Christ.  Some 
of  them  will  be  won  by  mere  human  sympathies,  at  the 
outset,  and  led  step  by  step  into  the  spiritual  house,  the 
temple  of  God.  .  .  .  The  first  disciples  learned  religion 
from  the  person  of  Christ,  not  from  abstract  ideas.  .  .  . 
Move  among  the  people;  get  hold  of  them;  draw  them 
to  you."  This  counsel  was  true  to  my  natural  tempera- 
ment, and  I  willingly  followed  Dr.  Warren  in  the  spir- 
itual application. 

Six  months  after  our  arrival  I  wrote  to  him,  November 
6,  1865 : 

"Christianity  and  our  mission  begin  to  occupy  the  place 
and  exert  the  influence  which  they  ought.  Yet  we  want 
more  of  the  influence  of  the  Holy  Spirit  among  us  and  in 
us.  I  am  no  longer  able  to  keep  quiet,  and  daily  go  out 
with  the  catechists  to  the  villages  near  the  mission  house, 
preaching.  Yesterday  was  a  happy  day  for  the  'Lone  Star' 
Mission.  It  was  my  privilege  to  baptize  four,  upon  profes- 


MY   APPRENTICESHIP    AT    MISSIONS  8l 

sion  of  their  faith  in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  Our  prayers 
are  beginning  to  be  heard.  God  is  sending  us  his  elect,  a 
great  multitude  of  whom  we  expect  to  see  here  among  the 
Telugus  ere  many  years,  who  shall  come  out  from  heathen- 
ism and  join  the  throng  which  is  passing  into  the  kingdom 
of  heaven  from  all  parts  of  the  world.  We  are  earnestly 
asking  God  to  give  us  at  least  one  hundred,  before  the 
close  of  the  year  1866,  seals  of  our  ministry. 

"The  'Lone  Star'  Mission  has  stood  here  in  the  midst 
of  darkness  deeper  than  night  for  about  twenty-five  years ; 
yet  few,  very  few,  have  'believed  our  report.'  We  feel 
that  this  cannot  longer  be  endured — that  God  has  an  elect 
people  here,  and  that  they  must  come  out  from  the  reckless 
multitude  and  unite  themselves  with  the  children  of  light." 

Dr.  Warren  replied  to  this  letter  January  27,  1866,  as 
follows : 

"I  am  this  hour  in  receipt  of  your  favor  of  November  6, 
1865,  a  very  long  time  on  the  way  for  letters  from  Nellore 
— three  months.  But  the  news  compensated  for  the  delay. 
It  really  does  me  good  to  follow  your  pen  as  it  discloses 
your  restive  desire  to  be  out,  with  the  open  mouth  and  the 
moving  tongue,  among  the  people,  with  the  messages  of 
salvation.  I  am  glad  the  word  is  like  fire  shut  up  in  your 
bones,  for  I  see  in  it  your  calling  of  God  to  that  very  work, 
and  a  pledge  at  once  of  your  fitness  for  it  and  your  success 
in  it.  ...  And  the  Lord  grant  your  largest  petition,  and 
enlarge  your  heart  to  ask  still  greater  things.  I  notice  you 
are  asking  for  one  hundred  converts  this  year.  That  is 
well,  very  well,  and  if  we  had  so  many  we  might  think  that 
the  Lord  has  indeed  made  windows  in  heaven.  But,  really, 
why  not  ask  for  a  thousand,  as  well  as  for  one  hundred? 

"And  then,  I  must  say  I  like  your  idea  of  seeking  after 
the  'elect'  of  God  in  that  dark  land.  That  is  the  true  idea. 
It  is  the  only  solid  ground  to  stand  on  in  missionary  work. 
.  .  .  The  very  fact  that  he  has  sent  you  there,  with  such 
a  purpose  as  you  cherish,  is  of  itself  evidence  that  he  means 


82  SOCIAL  CHRISTIANITY  IN  THE  ORIENT 

you  to  gather  fruits  for  himself,  'Sons  unto  glory.'  Go  on 
and  prosper  then,  and  may  you  see  scores  and  thousands 
turning  unto  God.  My  heart  is  with  you,  and  so  are  the 
hearts  of  all  the  brethren  here." 

I  was  full  of  hope  in  those  days.  The  prophetic  tone 
had  been  a  characteristic  of  the  mission.  Mr.  Day  had 
been  upheld  by  his  faith  in  great  things.  Dr.  Jewett  was 
always  talking  of  "much  people."  Now  I  took  it  up.  It 
was  afterwards  said  in  the  mission  that  "Clough  talked 
wild  in  those  days."  I  had  a  friend  there  in  Nellore  who 
later  held  a  high  post  in  the  educational  department  of 
the  government  in  Madras.  He  says  he  was  reasoning 
with  me  one  day,  asking  me  what  I  was  going  to  do  with 
that  multitude  which  I  expected  to  see  coming  over  to 
Christianity.  He  wanted  to  know  where  I  was  going  to 
get  the  money  to  supply  them  with  Christian  teaching.  I 
told  him  that  if  I  tried  I  could  get  one  hundred  thousand 
dollars  from  America  for  this  purpose.  It  was  a  daring 
statement.  The  whole  annual  income  of  our  society  at 
that  time  did  not  rise  much  higher  than  that  figure.  It 
took  twenty-five  years  to  bring  it  to  pass. 

According  to  the  actual  facts  of  our  every-day  life  in 
Nellore,  our  prayer  for  one  hundred  converts  during  1866 
was  not  granted.  They  did  not  come.  We  thought  the 
failure  must  be  due  to  the  native  preachers,  who  had  con- 
tentions among  themselves,  and  were  divided.  I  wrote, 
"I  think  our  faith  was  too  weak  to  remove  so  large  a 
weight."  Dr.  Warren,  on  the  other  hand,  wrote  accord- 
ing to  the  larger  vision,  "Why  not  ask  for  a  thousand  ?" 
Less  than  two  months  after  he  had  penned  this  question 
a  man  was  baptized  who,  during  the  thirty  years  of  his 
ministry,  led  more  than  one  thousand  people  to  believe 
in  Jesus.  Less  than  twelve  months  after  Dr.  Warren 
asked  that  question  two  lads  were  baptized,  Baddepudy 


MY   APPRENTICESHIP   AT    MISSIONS  83 

Abraham  and  Bezwada  Paul,  who  each  stood,  potentially, 
for  thousands  of  converts.  They  became  evangelists  to 
their  people.  If  Dr.  Warren  had  asked,  "Why  not  ask 
for  five  thousand?" — he  would  have  been  right. 

Meanwhile  I  was  having  an  experience  there  in  Nel- 
lore  with  the  Brahmans.  Several  Brahman  young  men 
had  been  coming  to  see  me.  I  had  fixed  upon  Sunday 
afternoon  for  visits  of  this  kind,  but  they  began  to  come 
at  other  times  also.  They  could  talk  English  somewhat, 
and  in  the  beginning  they  were  attracted,  no  doubt,  by 
the  opportunity  to  talk  with  a  white  man.  They  also  ap- 
preciated my  friendliness.  I  told  them  about  my  relig- 
ion. They  argued  with  me.  It  must  be  that  Jesus  met 
them  and  they  felt  his  power.  Two  out  of  that  group  of 
Brahman  young  men  were,  I  believe,  converted.  They 
asked  for  baptism  and  set  the  time  for  the  first  Sunday 
in  April.  Great  excitement  now  spread  over  Nellore. 
Few  understood  what  the  ordinance  of  Christian  baptism 
meant.  All  looked  upon  it  as  hopeless  degradation  for  a 
man  of  high  caste  to  unite  himself  religiously  with  a  com- 
pany of  people  composed  of  the  lower  caste.  None  of 
the  Nellore  Christians  were  higher  than  the  Sudra  caste. 

The  families  of  the  Brahman  young  men  now  took 
matters  in  hand.  All  were  forbidden  to  see  me.  One  of 
the  two  who  had  requested  baptism  was  sent  to  a  distant 
part  of  the  Telugu  country.  The  other  was  subjected  to 
petty  persecution  by  his  family.  They  held  him  by  force. 
He  was  locked  up  in  his  room  at  night,  and  guarded  by 
two  men  by  day.  He  had  begun  to  pray  to  Jesus  Christ, 
and  had  omitted  the  Brahmanical  ceremonies  required  of 
him  every  morning.  They  now  dragged  him  to  the  river; 
they  ordered  him  to  say  his  mantras  and  to  draw  the 
mark  on  his  forehead,  indicating  that  he  had  done  so. 
He  refused. 

There  was  a  large  community  of  Brahmans  in  Nel- 


84  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY  IN   THE   ORIENT 

lore,  many  of  them  wealthy,  learned  and  influential.  They 
felt  that  something  must  be  done.  The  tahsildar,  the 
highest  native  official  in  Nellore,  was  one  of  them,  and 
they  appealed  to  him.  He  issued  an  edict  that  no  Brah- 
man should  come  to  our  mission  house  or  receive  our 
books.  He  had  no  right  to  do  this.  It  was  contrary  to 
the  proclamation  of  religious  liberty  issued  by  the  Eng- 
lish Crown  in  1858.  But  if  I  had  protested  against  his 
edict  he  would  have  claimed  that  it  was  intended  only  for 
the  men  of  his  own  caste  and  religious  order,  and  that  in 
any  case  it  was  preferable  to  having  a  mob  attack  the 
mission  house,  with  possible  bloodshed.  His  order  was 
obeyed.  All  became  quiet,  as  if  nothing  had  happened. 
Only  once  in  a  while,  though  closely  watched,  one  of 
those  two  converts  came  to  see  me.  I  had  had  my  first 
contact  with  the  Brahmans,  and  had  felt  their  power. 

Right  into  the  midst  of  this  came  a  letter  from  Ongole 
bearing  the  call — not  loud,  but  distinct — from  Yerra- 
guntla  Periah,  the  forerunner  of  a  mass  movement  to- 
ward Christianity  among  the  outcaste.  He  belonged  to 
a  primitive  tribe,  the  Madigas,  leather  workers  by  trade, 
in  servitude  to  all,  poor,  ignorant,  despised.  There  were 
no  Madigas  in  the  Nellore  church.  Dr.  Jewett  and  I 
were  somewhat  perplexed ;  we  feared  complications.  We 
agreed,  however,  that  it  was  not  open  to  us  to  debate 
this.  We  were  bound  to  receive  everyone  who  believed 
in  Jesus  Christ. 

Thus  was  I  wheeled  around  from  dealing  with  the 
Brahmans,  who  stood  at  the  top  of  the  social  ladder  in 
India,  way  over  to  the  other  extreme — the  outcaste, 
whom  no  one  wanted.  I  did  not  know  then  that  after 
opening  the  door  to  this  one  man  among  the  Madigas  a 
whole  multitude  of  them  would  come  pressing  in.  Nor 
did  I  realize  that  by  opening  the  door  to  the  Madigas 
we  were  closing  it  against  all  others.  When  it  dawned 


MY  APPRENTICESHIP   AT    MISSIONS  85 

on  me  what  we  had  gained  by  the  coming  of  the  Madigas 
and  what  we  had  lost — it  was  too  late  to  change. 

At  this  time,  while  I  was  walking  straight  into  the 
bitterest  disappointment  of  my  whole  missionary  career, 
not  knowing  what  I  was  doing,  since  it  all  came  in  the 
ordinary  events  of  daily  life,  I  received  a  letter  from  Dr. 
Warren.  He  wrote : 

"I  pray  your  joys  may  abound.  I  am  not  unwilling  your 
trials  should  be  many.  Baptisms  in  suffering  must  be.  Do 
not  be  alarmed  if  you  see  them  approaching,  for  they  open 
the  way  to  great  consolations,  Godlike  deliverances.  With 
unspeakable  pleasure  I  leave  you  in  the  hands  of  God.  In 
such  keeping  how  safe  you  are,  and  how  certain  of  attain- 
ing to  everlasting  blessedness." 

I  had  been  in  India  nearly  a  year  and  had  not  yet  seen 
Ongole,  we  had  been  so  hard  at  work  in  Nellore.  Dr. 
Jewett  and  I  decided  that  we  should  now  take  that  jour- 
ney. It  was  already  March,  1866;  the  hot  season  would 
soon  be  upon  us.  He  had  much  to  show  me  in  Ongole : 
the  bungalow  and  compound,  and  "Prayer  Meeting  Hill," 
not  far  away.  But  as  we  went  on  that  journey  no  one 
said  to  us  that  I  was  now  to  be  taken  to  the  place  where 
forty  years  of  hard  work  were  waiting  for  me.  No  one 
as  yet  had  said  that  I  was  "the  man  for  Ongole."  I  was 
taking  root  in  Nellore ;  Dr.  Jewett  was  thinking  strongly 
of  letting  me  remain  there.  He  was  willing  to  settle  in 
Ongole,  with  Mrs.  Jewett,  who  was  back  with  him  at  her 
post,  their  children  left  in  America. 

We  took  our  way  along  the  seacoast  and  halted  at 
the  rich  town  of  Allur.  A  good  deal  of  preaching  had 
been  done  here.  We  wanted  to  make  it  a  mission  station. 
We  went  thirty  miles  farther  and  halted  at  Ramapatnam. 
Dr.  Jewett  felt  strongly  that  we  must  begin  work  here. 


86  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN   THE   ORIENT 

I  agreed  with  him.  A  missionary  society  south  of  us  had 
recently  asked  us  whether  we  intended  to  cover  the  ter- 
ritory between  Nellore  and  Ongole  with  our  operations. 
They  were  expecting  large  reenforcement  and  were  map- 
ping out  their  field.  We  asked  them  to  leave  the  stretch 
of  eighty  miles  between  Nellore  and  Ongole  to  us.  The 
distrust,  both  in  America  and  in  India,  concerning  the 
capacity  of  our  Telugu  Mission  was  something  which  I 
could  not  have  endured  much  longer. 

We  reached  Ongole.  It  counted  at  that  time  about 
6,000  inhabitants;  later  it  rose  to  10,000.  There  was 
no  other  town  of  that  size  within  a  radius  of  fifty 
miles.  It  was  therefore  important  as  a  center  of  trade. 
My  first  impression  of  Ongole  did  not  make  me  en- 
thusiastic. I  saw  that  anyone  who  settled  there  would 
have  plenty  of  elbow  room.  I  saw,  too,  that  the  property 
secured  by  Dr.  Jewett's  vigilance  gave  us  a  good  foot- 
hold for  work.  It  had  a  forlorn  look  at  that  time.  The 
compound  of  eleven  acres  had  been  made  a  grain  field 
to  help  pay  the  taxes.  The  bungalow  had  been  rented  to 
an  English  official,  who  lived  in  it.  There  were  four 
rooms  of  about  equal  size.  The  roof,  covered  with  tiles, 
was  too  low  for  safety  during  the  hot  season.  The 
verandas  were  thatch-covered.  Was  I  to  bring  my  fam- 
ily here,  and  make  this  our  home  ? 

There  was  one  peculiar  fact  about  Ongole  which  did 
not  come  into  consideration  with  me  at  that  time,  because 
I  did  not  know  what  the  future  had  in  store  for  me.  I 
was  always  talking  about  a  "multitude  of  the  elect."  If 
it  was  so  ordained  that  I  was  to  bring  in  the  con- 
verts from  the  territory  of  about  7,000  square  miles 
which  was  for  years  called  "the  Ongole  field,"  then  I  had 
to  locate  at  Ongole.  Three  trunk  roads  began  in  Ongole 
and  led  into  the  region  where  the  movement  spread. 
From  no  other  town  could  I  have  reached  so  easily  the 


MY   APPRENTICESHIP   AT    MISSIONS  87 

districts  where  afterwards  our  Christians  lived.  They 
could  come  to  me  in  almost  a  straight  line.  Those  roads 
were  military  roads.  Long  ago  they  had  been  merely 
country  tracks;  they  were  improved  when  English  regi- 
ments began  to  pass  back  and  forth.  The  great  road 
leading  from  Madras  to  Calcutta  also  went  through 
Ongole. 

The  government  had  regarded  Ongole  as  a  strategic 
point.  After  the  conquest  of  that  part  of  India,  when 
English  magistrates  were  appointed  to  important  centers, 
one  was  located  at  Ongole.  This  was  about  the  year 
1790.  A  regiment  of  English  soldiers  was  stationed 
there  for  some  time.  We  missionaries  fell  into  line  with 
statesmanship.  What  was  strategic  to  the  state  was 
strategic  to  religion  also.  The  roads  improved  for  the 
purpose  of  military  and  commercial  traffic  were  the  roads 
our  people  traveled  when  they  wanted  salvation  for  their 
souls.  No  doubt  a  firm  Hand  was  guiding  us.  We 
builded  better  than  we  knew. 

The  inquirer,  Yerraguntla  Periah,  lived  at  Tallakonda- 
paud,  forty  miles  southwest  of  Ongole.  We  sent  for  him. 
I  went  back  to  Nellore  to  my  work.  Dr.  Jewett  stayed 
and  waited.  It  was  right  that  after  all  his  faith,  and  his 
holding  on,  he  should  have  had  this  disciple  all  to  him- 
self, to  leave  the  imprint  of  his  benediction  upon  him. 
He  came  back  to  Nellore  and  with  joy  in  his  heart  told 
me  all.  He  wrote  to  Dr.  Warren : 

"This  man,  unable  to  read  a  word,  belonging  to  a  class  too 
low  to  be  despised,  impressed  on  my  mind  the  image  of 
patriarchal  life.  The  simplicity  of  his  story,  the  sincerity 
of  his  faith,  and  the  ardor  of  his  love,  shining  forth 
through  the  tears  which  flowed  down  his  cheeks — all  bore 
witness  to  the  saving  work  of  God  in  his  soul.  His  wife 
in  the  same  spirit  of  simplicity,  faith,  and  love  told  the 


88  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN   THE   ORIENT 

artless  story  of  her  conversion.  These  were  some  of  the 
happiest  moments  of  my  life.  I  was  ready  in  a  moment  to 
baptize  them." 

He  had  given  several  days  wholly  to  teaching  this  man 
and  his  wife.  They  were  hungry  and  thirsty  for  all  they 
could  learn  about  the  Lord  Jesus  and  this  Christian  re- 
ligion. When  Dr.  Jewett  was  not  talking  with  them  they 
asked  questions  of  the  preacher  who  had  come  with  him. 
They  eagerly  accepted  the  tracts  and  books  given  them, 
ready  to  carry  them  back  the  forty  miles.  With  a  few 
copper  coins  they  were  going  to  hire  some  one  to  read  to 
them.  They  had  left  behind  in  their  village  a  group  of 
people  who  looked  anxiously  for  their  return;  they,  too, 
wanted  to  place  their  feet  upon  this  path. 

We  were  amazed.  Dr.  Jewett  and  I  were  of  one  mind  : 
the  time  had  come  to  act.  One  of  us  must  go.  I  was  on 
fire.  With  a  revival  already  begun  in  that  distant  part 
of  the  field,  I  wanted  to  be  in  the  midst  of  it.  Dr.  Jewett 
now  treated  me  as  a  father  treats  a  son.  He  had  seen 
twenty  years  of  missionary  life.  I  stood  on  the  threshold 
of  mine.  He  gave  me  the  right  of  way.  He  let  me  state 
my  case  to  Dr.  Warren  and  told  me  to  send  the  letter. 
He  did  not  add  a  word  himself.  Dr.  Warren  understood 
his  silence. 

The  rough  draft  of  my  letter  to  Dr.  Warren,  dated 
March  24,  1866,  is  still  among  my  papers,  a  long  docu- 
ment, written  in  pencil.  Usually  I  struck  out  with  bold- 
ness and  decision  when  I  wanted  anything.  Not  so  here ; 
I  evidently  needed  to  convince  myself,  and  I  gave  Dr. 
Warren  the  benefit  of  my  argument.  I  told  him  about 
Allur  and  Ramapatnam,  and  added  that  I  was  willing  to 
go  to  either  place.  I  argued  that  our  best  man  should 
stay  in  Nellore,  and  that  government  officials,  too,  send 


MY   APPRENTICESHIP   AT    MISSIONS  89 

their  juniors  to  the  outstations.     I  wanted  to  be  treated 
as  a  junior.    I  wrote: 

"Lastly,  I  must  confess  that  I  have  a  little  ambition  to 
see  if  the  Lord  will  not  bless  my  labors  in  India.  If  I  work 
here  I  may  build  on  other  men's  foundation.  This  Paul 
was  not  anxious  to  do.  If  you  send  me  to  Ongole,  a  great 
wilderness  will  be  before  me.  If  I  succeed,  to  God  will  be 
the  glory.  If  I  fail,  it  will  show  that  I  am  not  in  the  right 
place." 

It  took  that  letter  two  months  to  go  to  Boston,  and 
before  another  three  months  had  passed  I  had  my  an- 
swer. It  was  dated  June  13,  1866: 

"I  have  long  been  looking  with  a  covetous  eye  upon  On- 
gole, and  hoping  the  time  would  come  when  we  should  be 
able  to  occupy  it  as  a  mission  station,  and  locate  a  mis- 
sionary there.  That  time,  I  am  happy  to  believe,  draws 
nigh.  The  Executive  Committee  are  with  me  fully  in  that 
opinion,  and  so  placed  themselves  on  record  yesterday.  It 
only  remains  that  you,  in  accordance  with  this  vote,  go  for- 
ward and  execute  it. 

"You  will  need  something  to  defray  expenses  of  removal, 
and  I  shall  endeavor  to  put  in  an  item  for  that  purpose.  I 
should  really  love  to  go  with  you,  help  you  on  your  way, 
and  settle  down  with  you  in  your  new  home.  Those  souls 
are  worth  saving,  every  one  of  them.  Yes,  one  of  them  is 
worth  going  a  long  way  to  save.  'While  we  look,  not  at 
the  things  which  are  seen,  but  at  the  things  which  are  not 
seen;  for  the  things  that  are  seen  are  temporal,  but  the 
things  that  are  not  seen  are  eternal.'  If  we  could  so  look, 
how  would  our  estimates  of  all  things  be  changed.  How 
should  we  labor  for  souls!" 

Thus  I  received  my  marching  orders.  Dr.  Warren 
had  given  me  his  benediction  on  the  way.  I  was  by  this 


90  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY  IN   THE  ORIENT 

time  very  eager  to  go  to  Ongole.  We  had  sent  three 
preachers  out  in  the  direction  of  Tallakondapaud  where 
Periah  lived.  They  found  him  burning  with  zeal  for  the 
souls  of  his  fellow-men  and  far  ahead  of  themselves  in 
his  desire  to  preach.  He  made  them  get  up  long  before 
daybreak  and  go  to  villages  at  a  distance.  It  was  during 
the  hot  season  and  he  carried  a  big  pot  of  buttermilk  on 
his  head  for  them  to  drink  when  thirsty.  When  the  three 
preachers  returned  to  Nellore  they  reported  that  prob- 
ably two  hundred  people  in  the  region  of  Tallakondapaud 
were  believing  in  Christ.  This  report  was  exaggerated, 
but  it  stirred  us  all. 

The  question  was,  who  of  the  staff  of  six  helpers  was 
to  go  with  us,  and  who  was  to  stay  behind  ?  They  were 
full  of  enthusiasm  and  ready  to  go.  We  divided  even. 
Dr.  Jewett  kept  three  and  sent  three  with  us :  Tupili  Run- 
giah,  who  had  been  trained  by  the  Jewetts  since  boyhood, 
Ezra,  who  had  joined  the  mission  later,  and  Lutchmiah, 
whom  I  had  dug  out  of  heathenism,  and  their  families. 

It  was  a  great  event  in  the  history  of  our  Telugu  Mis- 
sion when  missionaries  and  helpers  started  forth  to  found 
the  Ongole  Mission,  which  had  thus  far  been  seen  only  in 
visions  and  prayers.  Toward  evening,  September  12, 
1866,  when  it  was  time  for  going,  the  compound  rilled 
with  people.  The  native  Christians  and  friends,  many 
of  whom  we  had  learned  to  love,  were  there.  Their 
hearts  were  full ;  many  wept ;  they  spoke  words  of  bene- 
diction to  us.  With  feelings  too  deep  for  utterance  I 
took  the  parting  hand  of  dear  Brother  Jewett.  It  was 
now  thirteen  years  since  he  came  down  from  that  moun- 
taintop,  convinced  that  "the  man  for  Ongole"  was  com- 
ing. We  did  not  know  that  in  another  thirteen  years  the 
Ongole  church  would  number  thirteen  thousand  members. 
We  only  knew  that  we  were  stirred  to  the  depths. 


MY   APPRENTICESHIP   AT    MISSIONS  9! 

Monday  morning,  September  17,  1866,  at  daybreak, 
we  came  in  sight  of  "Prayer  Meeting  Hill."  Soon  we 
halted  in  front  of  the  bungalow,  Mrs.  Clough,  with  Allen, 
in  a  palanquin,  and  I  on  a  pony,  glad  to  be  at  home  in 
Ongole. 


VII 

THE    DESTINED    LEADERS    OF    A    MOVEMENT 

OURS  was  an  energetic  group  as  we  now  began  work 
in  Ongole.  There  was  nothing  half-hearted  about  us. 
No  doubts  assailed  us.  We  felt  called  to  this  work  and 
to  this  place.  We  intended,  with  the  blessing  of  God, 
to  succeed. 

Mrs.  Clough  brought  with  her  a  good  equipment  as 
teacher.  During  our  stay  in  Nellore  she  had  obtained  a 
knowledge  of  the  Telugu  language  and  had  studied  the 
situation  from  her  point  of  view.  It  was  understood 
from  the  first  that  the  school  work  at  Ongole  was  to 
be  in  her  charge.  The  wives  of  the  three  preachers  who 
came  with  us  were  her  assistants  in  beginning  the  work 
for  women.  We  all  fell  into  line.  Tupili  Rungiah  began 
to  second  my  efforts,  so  that  for  years  I  called  him  my 
right  hand  man. 

Then  there  was  Yerraguntla  Periah.  In  several  im- 
portant decisions  which  were  now  before  us,  he  acted  as 
spokesman  for  his  people.  He  and  I  were  influencing 
each  other  a  good  deal  in  those  first  months  in  Ongole. 
He  regarded  me  as  his  teacher,  and  I,  in  turn,  always 
wanted  to  know  what  he  had  to  say,  when  I  came  upon 
questions  in  connection  with  the  work,  which  were  so 
distinctly  Indian  that  I  could  not  easily  find  my  bear- 
ings. Periah  was  a  personality :  a  man  with  a  spiritual 
history.  He  had  taken  more  distinct  steps  in  his  religious 

92 


THE  FORERUNNER  OF  A  MASS  MOVEMENT  TOWARD  CHRISTIANITY 

"Yerraguntla  Periah  was  a  personality;  a  man  with  a  spiritual  history .  He 
had  taken  more  distinct  steps  in  his  religious  experience  than  falls  to  the  lot  of 
most  white  men  to  take.  .  .  .  His  request  to  me  u-as  practically  that  I 
should  let  this  Christian  movement  go  in  the  channels  formed  by  Indian  move- 
ments of  spiritual  significance.  ...  7  loved  that  man.  He  never  in  all  the 
years  failed  me.  .  .  ." 


THE   DESTINED   LEADERS   OF   A   MOVEMENT  93 

experience  than  falls  to  the  lot  of  most  white  men  to 
take.  He  could  not  read;  there  was  no  one  in  those 
days  who  could  be  induced  to  teach  a  poor  Madiga.  It 
was  not  a  matter  of  study  and  thought  with  him:  it 
was  a  matter  of  living  in  one  phase  of  Indian  religious 
life  after  another.  Born  into  any  other  community,  he 
would  have  risen  to  the  top.  As  a  Madiga  among  Mad- 
igas  he  stood  in  bold  outline. 

Periah  grew  up  in  the  modes  of  worship  which  be- 
long to  the  Madiga  hamlet.  This  worship  is  of  a  low 
order ;  for  it  is  largely  actuated  by  fear  of  unseen  forces. 
The  Madigas  bow  before  images  and  idols  that  stand 
mostly  for  non-Aryan  cults :  serpent  worship,  mother 
worship  in  some  form,  and  especially  demon  worship, 
all  ancient  as  the  race.  Even  though  Periah,  early  in 
life,  came  in  touch  with  Aryan  forms  of  worship,  he  did 
not  discard  the  primitive  beliefs  of  his  village.  The 
break  with  these  came  when  he  heard  of  Jesus  Christ. 

In  the  time  of  his  grandfather,  a  Guru  of  the  Rama- 
nuja  sect  had  been  invited  by  the  family  to  come  with 
the  idols  of  Vishnu  and  perform  sacred  rites  before 
them.  This  was  Aryan  worship.  It  dated  back  to  the 
great  teacher  Ramanuja  who  lived  in  the  twelfth  century, 
the  first  of  a  line  of  Vaishnavite  reformers.  There  is 
resemblance  between  his  teaching  and  that  of  Jesus,  the 
Christ.  Periah  considered  his  contact  with  this  sect  an 
advance,  both  religiously  and  socially,  upon  the  cults  and 
customs  of  the  ordinary  Madiga. 

After  he  had  come  to  maturity  a  change  came.  He  had 
heard  that  through  the  practice  of  Yoga  the  soul  could 
unite  with  God.  Eagerly  he  now  entered  this  path. 
His  teacher  was  an  elderly  woman,  Bandikatla  Veerama 
by  name,  who  came  to  a  neighboring  village  to  visit 
her  children.  She  was  an  initiated  disciple  of  the  Yogi 
Pothuluri  Veerabrahmham,  one  of  those  religious  per- 


94  SOCIAL    CHRISTIANITY    IN    THE    ORIENT 

sonalities  who  are  deeply  revered  by  the  Hindus.  He 
lived  about  a  century  ago  and  was  known  in  all  that 
region  as  a  Saivite  reformer  of  pure  life.  A  band  of 
disciples  had  gathered  around  him  to  whom  he  gave  the 
inner  teaching  of  his  order.  The  common  people  were 
taught  by  him  that  God  is  Spirit.  He  filled  thousands 
with  the  expectation  of  an  incarnation  of  divine  life.  As 
in  all  modern  Indian  reform  movements,  whether  Vaish- 
navite  or  Saivite,  caste  was  denounced.  This  explains 
why  Periah  could  be  received  as  a  disciple  by  the  woman 
Guru,  Veerama.  She  was  a  caste  woman  and  people 
of  all  castes  came  to  her ;  nevertheless,  she  allowed  Periah 
and  one  other  Madiga,  who  afterwards  became  a  Chris- 
tian preacher,  to  come  to  her  for  instruction.  The  owner 
of  the  house  which  she  occupied  objected.  Rather  than 
ask  her  followers  of  low  degree  to  stay  away,  she  looked 
for  another  house.  Before  her  death  she  initiated  Periah. 
This  became  a  leading  fact  in  his  life,  and  gave  him  a 
standing  in  the  Madiga  community  which  nothing  else 
could  have  given  him. 

It  was  known  that  for  years  after  his  initiation  he  kept 
up  the  practice  of  sitting  alone,  in  meditation,  an  hour 
every  day,  his  eyes  closed,  his  fingers  pressed  over  ears 
and  nostrils,  so  that  objects  of  sense  might  be  completely 
shut  out,  and  the  soul  might  seek  union  with  the  all-per- 
vading Divine  Being.  As  time  passed,  he  was  asked  to 
come  here  and  there  to  teach.  He  had  a  Guru-staff  in 
his  hand,  which  he  never  discarded,  not  even  after  he 
became  a  Christian  preacher.  Where  he  stayed  in  a  vil- 
lage and  taught  the  people,  they  gave  him  to  eat.  It 
seems  there  was  little  in  his  teaching  which  he  afterwards 
had  to  contradict  as  evil,  when  he  went  among  the  same 
people  to  tell  them  about  Jesus. 

Others  of  the  men  who  afterwards  became  leading 
Ongole  preachers  were  sitting  at  the  feet  of  Raja  Yoga 


THE   DESTINED   LEADERS   OF   A    MOVEMENT  95 

teachers  during  those  years.  None  of  those  Gurus  stood 
as  high  as  the  woman  Guru,  Veerama.  They  had  col- 
lected only  snatches  here  and  there  of  Yoga  teaching, 
and  gave  them  out  to  their  followers  amid  extortion  of 
gifts.  They  had  fallen  from  the  high  moral  standard 
required  of  the  true  Yogi.  Periah  knew  wherein  the  dif- 
ference lay.  He  held  aloof  from  the  shiftless  Gurus  who 
came  and  went.  Of  Veerama  he  never  spoke  with  any- 
thing but  deep  respect.  Even  in  his  old  age  he  said, 
"What  the  teachers  of  Yoga  told  me  was  good.  But 
nothing  satisfied  my  soul  till  I  heard  of  Jesus  Christ." 
The  years  passed.  Periah  must  have  been  nearly  fifty 
years  old  when  the  greatest  change  in  his  life  came  to 
him.  It  now  happened  that  he  found  occasion  for  travel. 
In  the  Godavari  district  many  cattle  were  dying,  stung 
by  a  poisonous  fly,  and  hides  therefore  were  cheap. 
Others  of  the  more  intelligent  and  prosperous  Madigas 
were  going  north  to  buy  several  cartloads  of  hides  and 
bring  them  back  to  sell  at  large  profit.  It  was  an  un- 
dertaking; sometimes  the  traders  were  gone  a  year  or 
two.  As  they  took  their  way  north,  they  passed  through 
the  town  of  Ellore,  about  one  hundred  miles  northeast 
of  Ongole.  A  mission  station  had  been  located  here  by 
the  Church  of  England.  Rev.  F.  N.  Alexander  was  the 
missionary  at  that  time  and  continued  in  that  place  for 
many  years,  a  man  full  of  zeal,  with  methods  thoroughly 
evangelistic. 

Some  years  before,  a  Madiga  trader  had  heard  him 
preach,  when  out  on  tour.  The  message  sank  into  his 
heart;  he  sought  instruction  and  was  received  into  the 
Ellore  church.  He  had  built  a  hut  and  settled  in  the 
north  with  his  family.  This  man,  Vongole  Abraham, 
was  distantly  related  to  Periah  and  a  number  of  others 
who  afterwards  constituted  the  staff  of  Ongole  preachers. 
Family  relationship,  however  distant,  is  cherished  by  the 


96  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN   THE   ORIENT 

Madigas.  The  traders  looked  upon  Abraham  as  a  friend 
in  that  northern  country.  He  gave  them  hints  in  a  busi- 
ness way  that  helped  them  in  trade.  They  stayed  with 
him  sometimes  for  a  day  or  two.  The  new  religion  then 
became  a  topic  of  conversation. 

That  group  of  men,  after  being  banded  together  to 
find  out  something  of  truth  from  the  teachers  of  Yoga, 
now  became  banded  together  in  learning  something  of 
the  Christian  religion.  It  was  not  made  easy  for  them. 
They  gathered  up  a  little  here  and  there,  and  as  they  met 
in  trade,  they  told  each  other  of  it.  The  one  on  whom 
they  chiefly  relied  was  Vongole  Abraham.  If  he  had  not 
settled  in  that  northern  district,  and  become  a  man  of 
active  Christian  character,  something  might  have  gone 
wrong  with  the  movement  toward  Christianity.  He 
formed  an  important  link  in  the  chain  of  happenings. 

It  is  a  remarkable  fact  that  the  leaders  of  the  move- 
ment were  going  through  this  singular  course  of  prep- 
aration during  the  years  while  I  was  forced  into  giving 
up  my  own  ambitions  for  a  career,  and  the  American 
Baptists  found  it  impossible  to  abandon  their  Telugu 
Mission.  These  separate  strands  of  human  experience 
came  to  a  meeting  point  when  Periah's  longing  for  Chris- 
tian fellowship  overpowered  him,  and  he  called  to  me 
to  come. 

Periah,  up  there  in  that  northern  district,  felt  that  he 
must  get  some  first-hand  information  about  Jesus  Christ. 
He  went  to  Ellore.  The  mission  bungalow  was  easily 
found.  Mr.  Alexander  was  always  accessible.  He  gave 
Periah  abundant  time  in  an  interview,  and  asked  him 
to  remain  to  a  meal  in  his  compound.  It  was  not  neces- 
sary to  teach  Periah  that  there  is  one  God  and  he  is 
Spirit.  He  had  learned  this  and  much  else  when  on 
the  path  of  Yoga.  He  wanted  to  know  about  the  divine 
incarnation  of  Jesus  Christ.  Mr.  Alexander  told  him 


THE   DESTINED   LEADERS   OF   A    MOVEMENT  97 

the  story  with  all  the  power  of  his  own  personal  belief 
in  it.  Periah  said,  "This  religion  is  true.  My  soul  is 
satisfied."  He  wanted  to  unite  with  the  Christians. 
When  Mr.  Alexander  learned  that  his  home  was  far 
south,  and  that  he  intended  soon  to  return  there,  he 
advised  him  to  unite  with  the  Christian  mission  nearest 
to  his  home.  This  was  wise,  far-seeing  policy  on  the 
part  of  Mr.  Alexander.  Had  his  advice  to  Periah  been 
otherwise,  something  again  might  have  gone  wrong  with 
that  movement. 

Mr.  Alexander  was  a  friend  of  Dr.  Jewett  and  knew 
that  I  had  come  with  him,  and  that  one  of  us  would 
settle  in  Ongole.  He  said  to  Periah,  "You  are  going 
back  to  your  home.  Inquire  from  time  to  time,  for  soon 
a  white  teacher  is  coming  to  Ongole.  Go  to  him;  he 
will  tell  you  more  about  this  religion." 

Periah  was  a  changed  man  when  he  returned  to  his 
village.  He  knelt  and  prayed  to  a  God  of  whom  no  one 
had  ever  heard;  he  refused  to  bow  to  the  old  village 
gods.  It  was  not  easy  to  persecute  and  abuse  him.  His 
relatives  and  neighbors  withdrew  from  him,  hoping  thus 
to  bring  him  to  his  senses.  This  had  no  effect  on  him. 
He  told  them,  "I  shall  go  to  the  people  of  the  Christian 
sect,  and  I  shall  eat  with  them."  As  time  passed,  his 
wife  Nagama  became  of  one  mind  with  him.  Then 
others  began  to  ask  him  what  he  knew  of  Jesus  Christ. 
He  was  preaching,  and  giving  out  to  others  what  he 
had  learned  in  a  fragmentary  way.  People  believed  his 
message. 

But  it  was  a  weary  time  for  him.  Often  he  inquired 
of  those  who  came  that  way:  "Has  no  white  teacher 
come  to  Ongole  ?"  He  could  bear  the  waiting  no  longer ; 
he  walked  the  forty  miles  tq  Ongole,  and  was  shown  the 
compound  that  belonged  to  the  Nellore  missionary.  In 
one  corner  of  it  was  a  hut,  which  Obulu,  the  first  of  the 


98  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN   THE   ORIENT 

Ongole  converts,  had  built  for  himself.  About  eight 
years  previously,  Dr.  Jewett  was  preaching  in  the  Ongole 
bazaar,  when  this  man  came  and  listened  a  while,  and 
said,  "I  am  sunk  in  a  sea  of  sin.  These  are  just  the 
words  I  want." 

The  coming  of  the  Ongole  missionary  was  the  burden 
on  Obulu's  soul.  When  the  Jewetts  embarked  for  Amer- 
ica, he  walked  all  the  way  to  Madras  and  begged  them 
to  bring  back  with  them  the  man  for  Ongole.  Obulu 
was  there,  in  that  hut,  in  the  corner  of  that  compound, 
when  Periah  came  and  asked,  "Where  is  the  white 
teacher  who  was  coming  to  Ongole?"  Had  Obulu  not 
been  there,  it  is  possible  that  the  movement  might  have 
miscarried  even  then.  Periah  might  have  failed  to  make 
connection  with  us :  I  might  have  become  permanently 
settled  in  Nellore,  and  his  call,  had  it  come  later,  might 
have  fallen  on  deaf  ears. 

But  Obulu  was  there.  He  gave  Periah  an  abounding 
sympathy.  He  directed  him  to  the  house  of  an  over- 
seer of  public  works,  where  Dr.  Jewett  sometimes  held 
meetings.  Periah  went  there  and  made  a  deep  salaam, 
and  said,  "Where  is  the  white  teacher?  I  believe  in 
Jesus  Christ.  I  want  Christian  fellowship."  Then  the 
letter  was  written  that  reached  us  in  Nellore  at  a  de- 
cisive hour.  It  was  the  last  link  in  a  long  chain  of  hap- 
penings. Afterwards,  in  his  old  age,  Periah  sometimes 
said  to  the  younger  men,  "I  called  our  Clough  Dhora,  and 
he  came."  It  is  true  that  he  called  me.  Soon  after  his 
baptism  he  came  to  Nellore  to  see  me.  His  joy  was 
great:  I  was  the  man  for  whom  he  had  long  waited. 
With  all  the  devotion  of  his  nature  he  henceforth  held  to 
me.  He  gave  me  a  spiritual  allegiance  of  a  high  order. 
Afterwards,  when  my  staff  of  preachers  counted  fifty 
men,  strong  men  among  them,  on  whom  I  leaned,  Periah 
never  lost  his  place  close  to  me,  though  often  I  saw  him 


THE   DESTINED   LEADERS   OF   A   MOVEMENT  99 

only  once  in  three  months.  Everybody  knew  that  Periah 
had  a  distinctive  position  with  me,  which  no  one  need 
covet,  or  desire  for  himself;  for  it  would  remain  vacant 
when  Periah  died. 

With  the  deepest  interest  Periah  looked  on,  as  we 
settled  down  at  Ongole  and  made  the  place  habitable. 
The  bungalow  had  to  be  repaired,  and  houses  erected 
on  the  compound  for  the  preachers  who  came  with  us. 
On  one  of  those  early  visits  to  Ongole,  he  brought  with 
him  his  young  kinsman,  Bezwada  Paul.  I  saw  that 
he  was  a  lad  of  some  promise,  and  asked  Periah  to  leave 
him  with  us.  I  found  work  for  him  to  do  in  connection 
with  our  household,  so  that  he  could  become  one  of  us. 
Mrs.  Clough  took  him  into  the  little  school  on  our 
veranda.  My  main  object  was  to  let  him  stay  as  an 
anchorage  to  the  Madiga  community.  The  movement 
among  the  Madigas  was  already  on  us. 

Periah  told  me  that  there  were  believers  out  in  his 
village,  Tallakondapaud,  perhaps  twenty  or  thirty  in 
number.  He  urged  me  to  come  and  baptize  them.  I 
now  talked  this  over  with  him.  In  those  early  days  of 
the  mission  we  observed  the  Lord's  Supper  on  every 
first  Sunday  of  the  month.  Periah  always  came  walk- 
ing the  forty  miles  each  way ;  often  Nagama  came  with 
him.  I  asked  him  to  bring  those  believers  to  Ongole  in 
groups,  that  we  might  receive  them  into  the  Ongole 
church.  This  was  not  according  to  his  mind.  He  had 
a  definite  plan.  He  wanted  me  to  come  out  there,  to 
stay  several  days,  giving  spiritual  instruction,  and  then  to 
baptize  those  who  gave  evidence  that  they  were  sincere 
believers  in  Jesus.  It  was  to  be  done  in  such  a  way 
that  the  tidings  would  be  carried  over  all  that  region. 
Everyone  would  know  that  there  had  been  a  definite 
act  of  forming  a  religious  center,  from  which  spiritual 
influences  could  now  be  expected  to  radiate.  It  was 


IOO  SOCIAL    CHRISTIANITY    IN    THE    ORIENT 

an  oriental  way  of  urging  the  planting  of  a  Christian 
church. 

With  his  capacity  for  organizing  people  into  groups, 
Periah  may  have  gathered  points  here  and  there  about 
the  Christian  church,  and  applied  them  to  his  own  case 
with  a  kind  of  unerring  religious  instinct.  He  had  asked 
searching  questions  from  Mr.  Alexander  and  his  cate- 
chists;  he  had  sat  for  days  at  Dr.  Jewett's  feet,  and 
had  talked  for  hours  with  our  Nellore  preachers.  Pos- 
sibly some  one  had  read  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles  to 
him.  These  sources  of  knowledge  of  our  Western  way 
of  organizing  may  have  been  tapped  by  him.  But  it 
is  far  more  likely  that  he  worked  this  out  on  the  pat- 
tern of  the  Indian  Guru.  He  had  ceased  to  be  a  Raja 
Yoga  Guru  and  had  become  a  Christian  preacher  by  a 
simple  sequence  of  events.  These  believers  who  were 
waiting  out  there  were  his  disciples.  He  wanted  me  now 
to  come  as  one  of  long  experience  in  the  Christian  life 
and  give  sanction  to  all  that  had  been  done.  Among 
the  Gurus  there  is  a  hierarchy.  He  of  deeper  experience 
and  higher  initiation  leads  those  of  less.  These  oriental 
conceptions  were  all  a  part  of  Periah's  mental  equipment. 
His  request  now  to  me  was  practically  that  I  should  let 
this  Christian  movement  go  in  the  channels  formed  by 
Indian  movements  of  spiritual  significance. 

It  must  be  that  the  Lord  Jesus  gave  to  Periah  a  clear 
conception  of  the  design  which  we  were  to  work  out, 
and  that  he  gave  to  me  sufficient  spiritual  vision  to  grasp 
its  bearings.  The  plan,  as  I  thought  it  over,  seemed  right 
to  me  and  in  accordance  with  New  Testament  methods. 
In  the  days  of  the  apostles  the  church  at  Jerusalem  re- 
ceived tidings  of  a  Christian  movement  in  the  city  of 
Antioch.  They  sent  out  Barnabas,  a  man  in  whom  they 
had  full  confidence,  as  one  who  would  deal  wisely  with 
the  situation.  Though  all  were  Gentiles,  he  remained 


THE    DESTINED    LEADERS    OF   A    MOVEMENT          IOI 

with  the  believers  at  Antioch  until  they  were  established 
as  a  group  related  to  the  church  at  Jerusalem.  With 
Antioch  as  the  beginning,  the  apostles  formed  Christian 
centers  among  the  Gentiles.  In  like  manner  with  us,  at 
Ongole,  the  beginning  which  we  made  at  Tallakondapaud 
formed  the  pattern.  Before  ten  years  had  passed  we 
had  thirty  such  centers  scattered  over  seven  thousand 
square  miles,  all  affiliated  to  the  church  at  Ongole.  We 
could  not  have  held  ourselves  more  closely  to  the  way 
indicated  in  apostolic  times. 

My  decision  to  go  out  to  Tallakondapaud  was  an  act 
of  faith  on  my  part.  I  knew  nothing  of  the  background 
of  religious  experience  which  filled  this  group  of  con- 
verts with  so  much  zeal.  Books  on  the  Indian  religions 
were  few  in  those  days.  I  was  new  in  the  country. 
Moreover,  to  me  the  Hindus  were  all  heathen.  If  any- 
one had  tried  to  explain  to  me  that  I  was  now  to  draw 
into  a  Christian  movement  the  fervor  which  had  been 
generated  in  an  Indian  movement,  I  would  probably 
have  refused  to  believe  him.  I  felt  the  risk  keenly.  I 
would  willingly  have  baptized  those  people,  a  few  at  a 
time,  as  they  came  to  Ongole,  for  it  would  not  have 
caused  much  comment,  even  if  nothing  more  was  heard 
from  them.  But  to  go  out  there,  and  in  that  dramatic 
form  baptize  a  group  of  people,  establish  a  Christian 
center,  and  recognize  its  leader  as  the  pastor  was  a  dif- 
ferent matter.  Those  people  were  all  outcastes,  only 
one  could  read  a  little.  Suppose  the  whole  thing  died 
down  after  a  time!  Then  it  could  justly  be  said  that 
a  new  recruit  in  the  service,  as  I  then  was,  had  no 
right  to  assume  so  much  responsibility.  However,  I  felt 
that  I  must  take  the  risk  and  go  ahead. 

First,  we  had  to  organize  a  Baptist  church  at  Ongole, 
so  that  these  converts  could  be  baptized  into  its  fel- 
lowship. We  had  eight  members  who  had  letters  of  dis- 


IO2  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN   THE   ORIENT 

missal  from  the  Nellore  church.  Our  church  at  Ongole 
was  organized  January  i,  1867.  We  observed  the  week 
of  prayer.  Then,  full  of  strength,  ready  for  anything  that 
might  come,  I  undertook  the  first  of  my  many  long  mis- 
sion tours.  Mrs.  Clough  remained  behind,  in  charge  of 
the  compound.  I  borrowed  a  tent  from  an  English  of- 
ficer. As  I  had  no  pony,  I  went  in  an  ordinary  bullock- 
cart.  I  halted  at  villages  on  the  way  and  preached. 
Finally  I  reached  Tallakondapaud,  and  was  gladly  wel- 
comed by  Periah  and  his  wife.  My  tent  was  pitched 
in  a  fine  tamarind  grove  near  by,  and  here  now  I 
took  my  first  lesson  in  the  simple  village  life  that  was 
so  new  to  me.  Word  was  passed  from  village  to  vil- 
lage that  I  had  come.  The  next  day  thirty  or  forty 
men  and  women  appeared  before  the  tent,  each  with 
provisions  for  several  days,  tied  up  in  a  cloth.  They 
said  they  had  come  to  learn  more  about  Jesus,  but  that 
they  already  believed  and  wanted  to  be  baptized. 

"Then  commenced  a  series  of  meetings  in  that  tamarind 
grove  that  continued  for  five  days,  which  I  can  never  forget. 
There  were  thirty-five  in  constant  attendance,  and  many 
others  at  times.  The  meetings  were  for  preaching,  prayer, 
and  reading  the  Scriptures  and  inquiry.  At  the  end  of  the 
fifth  day,  Sunday,  January  2Oth,  twenty-eight  were  baptized 
in  the  river,  a  quarter-mile  distant,  upon  profession  of  their 
faith  in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  These  meetings  and  these 
baptisms  almost  made  me  think  that  another  day  of  Pente- 
cost was  being  given  to  us.  I  have  seen  many  revivals  at 
home,  and  witnessed  many  precious  outpourings  of  the  Holy 
Spirit,  but  I  never  saw  such  a  blessed  time  as  this  was — 
never  saw  such  faith  and  such  love  for  Jesus  the  Saviour. 

"The  simple  reading  of  the  last  two  chapters  of  Mat- 
thew, or  the  corresponding  chapters  in  the  other  gospels, 
or  the  remark  that  Christ  died  upon  the  cross  for  us  and 
for  the  sins  of  the  whole  world,  would  affect  them  all  to 


THE   DESTINED   LEADERS   OF   A    MOVEMENT          103 

tears,  and  many  of  them  would  sob  aloud,  as  though  they 
had  just  lost  their  dearest  friend.  Their  faith  is  simple, 
but,  oh,  how  strong.  Such  faith  as  these  little  ones  possess 
would  be  a  treasure  to  anyone,  even  to  the  best  Christian, 
and  must  result  in  the  conversion  of  a  great  multitude. 
Those  baptized  live  in  six  villages,  and  are  of  all  ages, 
from  fifteen  to  seventy  years;  but  the  majority  are  young 
men  and  women  between  twenty  and  thirty  years  of  age." 

The  long  letter  to  Dr.  Warren,  of  which  the  above 
was  a  part,  had  far-reaching  results.  A  man  came  to 
Boston  from  Canada,  as  a  candidate  for  foreign  service 
under  our  Board.  He  wanted  to  go  to  the  Karen  Mis- 
sion. Dr.  Warren  put  this  letter  from  me  into  his  hands 
and  said,  "Read  and  pray  and  tell  me  what  you  think 
of  it."  It  took  him  one  night.  The  next  day  it  was 
settled.  He  was  to  come  to  the  Telugus.  This  man  was 
Rev.  A.  V.  Timpany.  He  joined  us  in  1868,  three  years 
after  our  arrival.  Timpany's  coming  to  us  influenced 
McLaurin  to  follow  two  years  later.  Together  they  be- 
came founders  later  on  of  the  Canadian  Baptist  Mission 
in  the  Telugu  country  north  of  our  mission.  That  Tal- 
lakondapaud  baptism  was  a  great  occasion. 

I  gave  myself  wholly  to  the  people  during  those  days. 
They  were  hungry  and  thirsty  for  every  word  of  divine 
truth  I  could  tell  them.  They  sat  for  hours  and  could 
not  get  enough.  I,  in  turn,  felt  my  faith  refreshed  be- 
yond measure.  I  wrote  to  Dr.  Warren:  "The  ex- 
periences of  those  days  were  worth  more  to  me  than 
I  can  tell.  I  can  toil  on  now  patiently.  ...  I  look  for 
great  things  from  the  Lord."  Perhaps  it  was  neces- 
sary that  I  should  receive  this  spiritual  uplift;  for  a 
heavy  load  was  slowly  adjusting  itself  to  my  shoulders. 
These  people  were  Madigas.  Perhaps  men  of  all  other 
castes  would  therefore  refuse  my  message.  I  had  need 
of  strength. 


IO4  SOCIAL    CHRISTIANITY   IN    THE    ORIENT 

It  was  a  remarkable  group  of  people.  Afterwards  it 
came  to  be  regarded  as  a  distinction  to  have  been  one 
of  those  twenty-eight.  There  was  Bezwada  Paul,  whom 
I  brought  from  Ongole  with  me  to  receive  baptism 
among  his  people.  He  was  a  born  evangelist.  There 
was  another  like  him  in  that  group,  a  lad  whom  I  saw 
standing  with  the  rest  after  the  baptism.  Something 
in  him  appealed  to  me.  I  wanted  him.  I  took  him  by 
the  hand  and  said,  "You  must  come  with  me,  my  boy, 
I  will  take  you  into  school  and  teach  you."  He  replied 
with  joy,  "I  will  come."  I  said,  "But  your  parents  will 
say  No."  He  shook  his  head.  He  was  ready  to  forsake 
all  and  follow :  "Nevertheless,  I  will  come."  It  was 
hard  for  his  parents  to  let  him  go.  I  had  to  help  them 
sometimes  to  make  up  to  them  for  the  loss  of  their  son. 
This  was  Baddepudy  Abraham,  one  of  the  most  active 
evangelists  of  the  movement.  Often  in  later  years  he 
told  of  those  days  with  tears  in  his  eyes.  He  said :  "We 
could  sit  together  for  hours  and  talk  of  Jesus.  If  one 
of  us  spoke  of  the  nails  driven  into  his  hands,  or  the 
thorns  on  his  brow,  we  could  hardly  bear  to  hear  it. 
We  sobbed  like  children.  We  said  to  each  other:  'He 
endured  this  for  us.'  Never  again  was  our  bhakti — our 
devotion — as  it  was  in  those  days." 

The  report  of  this  baptism  spread  over  the  country. 
Periah  had  calculated  the  effects  rightly.  First  it  was 
in  the  form  of  a  rumor,  then  the  Madigas  took  hold  of 
definite  facts — there  was  something  in  it  that  stirred 
them.  Up  in  the  northern  districts  there  were  two  men, 
bent  on  trade,  who  were  soon  to  become  Christian 
preachers.  One  of  them,  Pidatala  Periah,  had  spent  years 
in  trying  to  find  salvation  through  Raja  Yoga  Gurus. 
To  six  of  them,  one  after  another,  he  had  given  money, 
in  the  hope  that  they  would  tell  him  something  to  save 
his  soul.  The  worthless  character  of  these  men  had 


THE   DESTINED   LEADERS   OF   A   MOVEMENT         1 05 

obliterated  anything  of  truth  which  might  have  lain 
hidden  in  their  teaching.  Weary  at  heart,  heavily  in 
debt  through  these  Gurus,  he  now  heard  the  rumors  of 
a  new  religion.  One  day  a  neighbor  from  the  old  home 
passed  that  way  on  business.  He  told  these  two  men 
what  had  happened,  and  went  his  way.  Each  had  a  son, 
as  well  as  friends,  among  the  twenty-eight.  They  sat 
down  together  very  sad;  they  could  hardly  keep  back 
the  tears.  Pidatala  Periah  said:  "The  brothers  born 
after  me  and  my  own  son  are  on  the  way  to  heaven 
before  me.  I  cannot  stay  here  longer."  The  next  day 
they  procured  carts,  to  load  one  hundred  hides  on  each, 
and  to  start  for  home.  They  came  to  me,  full  of  glad- 
ness. I  was  amazed  at  it  all  and  could  not  understand 
it.  Had  they  tried  to  explain  it  to  me,  I  could  not  have 
understood  their  search  for  truth;  it  was  all  too  com- 
plicated. 

Before  I  left  Tallakondapaud  I  talked  at  length  with 
Periah.  Out  there,  in  the  setting  of  his  own  village,  the 
man's  patriarchal  bearing  appeared  in  noble  outline. 
A  born  leader,  he  was  now  a  Christian  preacher  by  the 
grace  of  God.  I  told  him  that  I  wanted  him  to  give  up 
all  leather  work  and  devote  his  time  wholly  to  preaching. 
He  was  willing  to  do  this:  he  was  going  to  preach  in 
any  case.  My  request,  however,  called  for  a  readjust- 
nent  of  his  personal  affairs.  If  he  was  to  stop  all  leather 
work,  then  how  could  he  provide  for  his  family  ?  Where 
he  was  known  as  Guru,  he  was  given  to  eat,  and  some- 
thing besides.  But  I  wanted  him  to  go  where  he  was 
not  known,  where  no  one  would  trust  him  as  a  spiritual 
teacher  until  he  had  come  again  and  again.  In  such 
places  who  would  give  him  to  eat?  How  would  those 
depending  on  him  at  home  fare  meanwhile?  It  came 
to  this:  In  so  far  as  Periah  could  stay  in  the  groove  of 
the  Hindu  Guru,  he  wanted  no  support.  But  where  I 


IO6  SOCIAL    CHRISTIANITY   IN    THE   ORIENT 

wanted  him  to  go  into  Christian  evangelistic  work  out- 
side that  groove,  there  I  must  give  him  support.  I 
grasped  the  situation. 

Had  Periah  asked  for  a  monthly  salary,  it  is  probable 
that  I  would  have  given  him  all  he  asked;  for  I  felt 
the  services  of  the  man  were  beyond  valuation  by  money. 
This  would  have  changed  the  whole  policy  of  the  Ongole 
Mission,  as  it  lay  in  the  future.  The  fact  is,  that  Periah 
and  I  at  that  time  worked  out  and  established  a  system 
of  self-support  which  has  endured  to  the  present  day. 
Periah  knew  that  if  he  were  to  receive  monthly  salary 
from  me,  it  would  upset  the  relations,  deeply  cherished 
by  him,  with  those  to  whom  he  was  a  spiritual  teacher. 
The  staff  of  Ongole  preachers,  as  it  increased  rapidly 
in  number,  counted  in  those  early  days  several  men  with 
an  experience  back  of  them  similar  to  that  of  Periah. 
It  was  congenial  to  their  minds  to  be  given  to  eat,  in  a 
humble  way,  by  those  whom  they  had  just  taught.  If 
that  increasing  staff  of  men  had  all  asked  monthly  sal- 
aries, I  would  soon  have  been  bankrupt. 

There  was  another  important  direction  in  which 
Periah  and  I  settled,  then  and  there,  the  policy  of  the 
Ongole  Mission.  As  he  talked  with  me,  he  thought  it 
all  over,  that  he  was  to  go  from  village  to  village,  fifty, 
even  eighty,  miles  from  home,  to  be  gone  from  home 
for  weeks,  even  months  at  a  time.  He  said,  "How  can 
I  go  about  alone  all  the  time?"  I  replied,  "Take  Na- 
gama,  your  wife,  with  you,  and  you  will  be  two."  He 
assented  gladly.  An  unusual  relation  existed  between 
Periah  and  his  wife.  The  native  people  often  spoke 
of  it  with  deep  respect;  they  knew  of  none  other  like  it. 
Among  those  who  practice  Yoga  there  is  a  teaching  that 
sometimes  there  are  two  who  may  marry,  whose  souls 
are  as  one  soul.  It  was  said  that  Periah  and  his  wife 
were  thus.  They  had  no  children.  As  they  now  began 


THE   DESTINED   LEADERS   OF   A    MOVEMENT          IO7 

to  make  long  tours  together,  they  went  in  perfect  union. 
Periah  said  in  his  old  age:  "What  I  preached,  she 
preached;  what  I  ate,  she  ate.  Nagama  was  always 
with  me."  The  women  loved  Nagama,  and  gathered 
round  her  when  they  came  to  a  village.  The  men  looked 
up  to  Periah,  as  one  who  knew  more  than  they. 

The  other  preachers  did  likewise.  When  the  wife 
had  little  children,  she  stayed  and  taught  the  school.  All 
saw  how  Mrs.  Clough  stood  by  my  side,  trusted  with 
responsibility.  The  women  of  the  mission  took  their 
place  from  the  first  in  the  movement.  I  subsidized  them 
as  I  did  the  men.  They  became  a  powerful  factor  in 
Christianizing  the  Madigas. 

I  left  Tallakondapaud  the  night  after  the  baptism. 
They  were  all  there :  those  who  had  been  baptized  and 
about  forty  others,  from  surrounding  villages.  They 
wanted  to  return  home  that  night  and  be  ready  for  work 
early  the  next  morning.  My  cart  stood  ready  for  me. 
Still  they  held  me :  still  I  could  not  bear  to  part  from 
them.  It  was  midnight.  We  prayed  together,  and  felt 
that  many  would  come  and  unite  with  us.  It  must  be 
that  Jesus  was  in  our  midst.  He  was  touching  our 
hearts ;  that  Indian  village  became  holy  ground.  In  the 
events  of  those  few  days  lay  the  germs  of  the  great 
harvest  that  followed  in  the  name  of  Jesus. 

Two  weeks  later  Periah  and  Nagama  came  to  Ongole 
for  the  Lord's  Supper.  Their  hearts  were  heavy.  Per- 
secution had  broken  out.  The  caste  people,  who  expect 
the  Madigas  to  worship  and  appease  the  demons  who 
afflict  men  and  cattle,  had  taken  note  of  all  that  had 
happened.  They  feared  the  consequences,  and  took 
measures  of  restriction  which  they  thought  might  satisfy 
those  invisible  fiends  which  they  dreaded.  The  Chris- 
tians were  ostracized.  They  were  forbidden  to  come 
to  the  bazaar  to  buy,  to  draw  water  from  the  public  wells, 


IO8  SOCIAL    CHRISTIANITY    IN    THE    ORIENT 

to  walk  on  the  streets  of  the  villages  where  they  lived. 
All  were  in  trouble.  Two  families  had  not  so  much  as 
one  meal  a  day.  I  felt  this  condition  of  affairs  keenly. 
If  anyone  had  told  me  that  I  was  now  to  enter  upon  a 
course  of  steady  repetition  of  such  persecutions  year 
after  year  during  all  the  period  of  my  missionary  life, 
I  would  have  staggered  under  the  load.  I  put  money 
into  Periah's  hands  for  those  starving  families  and  sent 
him  back  to  tell  them  all  to  stand  firm  in  the  faith  for 
Jesus'  sake.  I  wrote  to  the  submagistrate  out  there  and 
called  upon  him  to  put  an  end  to  those  persecutions.  It 
was  well  that  I  did  this.  Soon  disease  appeared  among 
the  cattle.  There  were  deaths.  The  Christians  were 
taken  before  that  magistrate  and  accused  of  having 
caused  these  deaths.  He  dismissed  the  prisoners,  for  he 
could  find  no  fault  in  them,  and  strictly  charged  the 
accusers  to  cease  from  troubling  them.  There  was  peace 
then  for  a  time. 

Thus  it  had  come  to  pass  that  in  one  short  month 
we  had  organized  the  Ongole  church ;  we  had  begun  the 
Ongole  method  of  village  evangelization ;  we  had  settled 
on  the  Ongole  policy  of  self-support;  we  had  given  the 
women  a  status  side  by  side  with  the  men;  we  had  en- 
tered upon  suffering  for  Jesus'  sake.  The  movement 
had  begun. 


VIII 

EDUCATION     FOR     AN    ILLITERATE     PEOPLE 

THERE  was  much  coming  and  going  at  the  mission 
house.  The  rumor  was  going  over  the  country  that 
there  was  a  white  man  in  Ongole  who  was  preaching 
a  new  religion,  and  that  it  was  a  good  religion.  Many 
came,  prompted  by  curiosity.  Some  were  truly  anxious 
to  know  whether  there  was  something  in  this  religion 
that  was  meant  for  them. 

Those  who  came  were  of  various  castes.  The  fact 
that  we  were  baptizing  groups  of  Madigas  frequently, 
and  none  others,  had  not  become  accentuated  in  the 
minds  of  people.  The  crisis  had  not  yet  come;  and  ours 
was  not  yet  called  a  Madiga  mission.  I  was  happy  in 
working  with  the  people,  as  they  came,  one  or  two  at 
a  time,  and  I  gave  much  attention  to  everyone.  I  could 
say  at  that  time,  "Our  hearts  are  filled  with  gratitude  to 
God.  He  is  doing  good  to  us.  To  him  be  all  the  glory. 
Our  work  and  prospects  as  a  mission  never  looked  so 
promising  as  now." 

Every  afternoon,  with  umbrella  in  hand,  I  went  out 
to  preach.  Sometimes  I  went  to  a  Pariah  hamlet  of 
four  hundred  inhabitants,  close  to  our  compound.  It 
had  a  bad  name.  Formerly  it  had  known  few  quiet 
nights.  The  police  constables  were  powerless  to  control 
these  Malas.  Now  an  increasing  number  were  coming 
to  our  Sunday  services.  The  character  of  the  hamlet 

109 


IIO  SOCIAL    CHRISTIANITY   IN    THE   ORIENT 

was  changing  rapidly.  In  those  days  I  did  much  house- 
to-house  visiting.  I  respected  prejudices,  especially  those 
of  the  caste  people,  and  did  not  approach  their  homes 
until  they  invited  me.  Often  I  said  to  them,  "Do  not  be 
afraid  of  me,  for  I  am  like  your  brother,  and  want  to 
talk  to  you  about  the  true  God."  This  was  the  way  to 
win  their  confidence. 

I  preached  in  the  Ongole  bazaar  too.  Here  I  met  with 
active  hostility.  Ongole  was  a  very  conservative  place. 
The  caste  people  were  determined  to  make  it  impossible 
for  me  to  preach  my  religion  in  their  hearing.  I  always 
took  one  or  two  of  our  preachers  with  me.  They  stoned 
us.  Even  though  only  pebbles  were  used,  they  hurt  and 
left  a  mark.  I  did  not  take  this  quietly.  I  turned  around 
and  asked  who  threw  that  stone.  Once  they  made  a 
definite  attack  with  these  pebbles;  throwing  them  thick 
and  fast,  with  so  much  dexterity  that  no  one  could  be 
detected  in  the  act.  The  police  inspector  who  watched 
over  my  safety  while  I  was  in  Nellore  had  been  trans- 
ferred to  Ongole.  He  knew  the  temper  of  the  people,  and 
insisted  that  I  must  let  him  know  when  I  was  going  to 
the  Ongole  bazaar  to  preach.  He  wanted  a  few  of  his 
constables  to  be  on  the  border  of  the  crowd  that  gathered 
around  me.  The  tahsildar  of  Ongole  also  feared  some 
kind  of  an  outbreak.  He  could  not  make  me  give  up 
my  preaching,  and  therefore  addressed  himself  to  the 
people.  He  told  them  if  they  did  not  want  to  hear  me, 
to  pass  by  quietly,  but  not  to  throw  stones  at  me,  for 
I  was  only  talking  about  my  God  and  had  come  to  On- 
gole to  do  them  good.  No  harm  came  to  me  in  the 
Ongole  bazaar,  but  probably  I  was  in  danger  more  often 
than  I  realized. 

I  was  still  new  in  the  country  and  had  much  to  learn. 
I  used  every  means  available  to  inform  myself.  Scarcely 
a  day  passed  but  I  came  upon  something  that  was  new 


EDUCATION    FOR   AN   ILLITERATE   PEOPLE  III 

to  me,  which  I  could  not  pass  by,  because  it  threw  light 
on  the  attitude- of  the  people  toward  the  new  religion. 
I  asked  questions.  Often  the  people  from  the  villages 
wondered  that  a  white  man  should  be  so  ignorant  of  all 
that  constituted  their  real  world.  I  tried  to  be  patient 
and  sympathetic.  I  learned  from  them  all,  whether  out- 
caste  or  the  highest  caste.  Neither  schools  nor  books  had 
anything  to  do  with  the  teaching  I  received.  It  came 
by  the  human  contact  of  daily  life.  I  began  to  think 
with  the  people  and  to  live  with  the  people  their  lives. 

I  had  to  give  up  the  practice  of  looking  at  every- 
thing with  my  American  eyes.  Even  my  American  love 
for  freedom  had  to  be  suppressed,  lest  I  lose  ground  by 
my  indignation  over  the  fetters  with  which  I  here  saw 
everybody  bound.  Our  American  rule  of  equal  rights, 
and  of  freedom  to  act  according  to  our  own  conscience, 
was  so  self-evident  to  me,  that  the  system  of  caste  at 
first  seemed  an  absurdity.  I  thought  it  must  vanish  as 
a  matter  of  course,  before  the  first  ray  of  enlightenment. 
That  is  where  I  was  mistaken.  We  pioneer  missionaries 
would  not  have  believed  it  possible,  in  those  days,  that 
Hinduism  would  hold  out  against  Christianity  as  it  has 
done.  The  increase  in  the  Christian  population  of  India 
has  come  largely  through  several  mass  movements  from 
the  outcaste  population.  * 

As  the  months  passed,  I  grasped  more  and  more  the 
importance  of  the  social  institutions  of  the  people.  They 

*  The  statistics  of  1911  for  Protestant  missions  in  India  are  as 
follows : 

Missionary    societies     117 

Missionaries,  men  and  women 5,200 

Indian  workers,  men  and  women  38,458 

Organized  churches    6,308 

Communicants  in  these  churches 568,080 

Members  of  the  Protestant  community 1,636,731 

Members  of  the  Roman  Catholic  community 1,904,006 

The   total  population   of    India 315,132,537 


112  SOCIAL    CHRISTIANITY    IN    THE   ORIENT 

had  grouped  themselves  according  to  race  distinctions. 
Their  communal  life  had  endured  unchanged  for  many 
centuries.  British  influence  was  then  beginning  to  work 
a  change.  Even  at  that  time  social  groups,  held  to- 
gether thus  far  with  tenacity,  were  breaking  up  into 
units.  But  I  wondered  more  and  more  how  the  rigor  of 
this  social  system  would  affect  my  purpose  of  preaching 
Jesus  Christ  to  the  Hindus.  Where  was  the  road  lead- 
ing me  ? 

The  movement  among  the  young  Brahmans  in  Nellore 
had  come  to  an  abrupt  close.  I  expected  a  repetition  of 
this,  perhaps,  among  some  of  the  other  castes.  None 
came.  The  leading  Mohammedan  priest  of  Ongole,  a 
wealthy  old  man,  came  to  see  me  a  number  of  times. 
He  said  he  believed  in  Jesus,  and  wanted  to  unite  with 
us.  For  a  time  it  seemed  that  through  him  we  might 
find  entrance  in  the  Mohammedan  community  of  that 
region.  He  ceased  to  come.  I  began  to  have  a  feeling 
that  everyone  was  drawing  back,  holding  aloof.  There 
was  a  wall  of  silence,  as  if  I  had  already  hopelessly  iden- 
tified myself  with  the  outcaste.  I  was  bound  to  find 
out  what  it  all  meant. 

Often  I  noticed  how  the  Pariahs  kept  a  distance  of 
at  least  ten  feet  between  themselves  and  the  Brahmans. 
On  the  public  road  they  walked  far  over  on  one  side. 
They  were  evidently  in  constant  fear.  When  out  on  tour, 
I  sent  one  of  my  men  to  buy  food  from  a  caste  man. 
I  saw  how  he  laid  the  money  on  the  ground  and  walked 
away,  and  the  caste  man  came  and  picked  it  up.  In 
some  of  the  villages  men  were  afraid  of  me  and  ran 
away.  I  thought,  perhaps,  they  had  never  before  seen  a 
white  man,  and  called  to  them  to  come.  They  began 
to  cough  and  to  act  as  if  in  much  pain.  When  they  saw 
that  I  only  intended  to  talk  kindly  with  them,  they 
straightened  out;  the  cough  and  pain  were  gone.  They 


EDUCATION    FOR    AN    ILLITERATE    PEOPLE  113 

evidently  had  been  afraid  I  was  going  to  coerce  them 
into  some  unpaid  service.  I  saw  the  outcaste  people  were 
hunted  down  by  oppression. 

While  I  was  in  this  condition  of  wondering  why  the 
caste  people  were  staying  away,  wishing  always  that 
there  might  be  some  break  in  their  aloofness,  the  com- 
mon people  came  with  ever-increasing  gladness.  It  was 
New  Testament  times  over  again.  I  knew  all  the  time 
that  I  was  walking  in  this  respect  in  the  footsteps  of 
my  Master,  Jesus,  but  I  cannot  say  that  I  was  then 
doing  it  willingly.  Many  years  later  it  was  said, 
"Clough  has  converted  all  the  cattle-thieves  of  this  re- 
gion." The  Brahmans  meant  this  as  a  reproach.  To 
a  servant  of  the  Lord  Jesus  it  was  bound  to  be  a  com- 
mendation. 

Soon  after  the  baptism  of  the  twenty-eight  at  Tal- 
lakondapaud,  I  sent  out  Preacher  Tupili  Rungiah  to 
strengthen  the  brethren  in  their  faith,  and  give  them 
Christian  teaching.  Six  weeks  later  he  came  back  to 
Ongole  with  a  group  of  twenty- four  people,  each  one 
carrying  provisions  for  several  days.  Seven  requested 
baptism,  two  were  already  waiting  in  Ongole  for  the 
ordinance.  We  baptized  these  nine.  The  rest  had 
walked  all  the  forty  miles,  impelled  by  the  desire  for 
Christian  fellowship.  "That  Sunday  evening  thirty-one 
native  brethren  were  at  the  Communion  table  to  com- 
memorate the  dying  love  of  Jesus." 

I  had  given  instructions  to  Rungiah  to  take  counsel 
with  Periah,  and  then  jointly  to  lay  it  upon  this  grow- 
ing Christian  community  as  a  duty  that  they  must  set 
apart  some  among  their  number  to  become  teachers  and 
preachers.  There  were  Christians  now  in  several  vil- 
lages. It  was  to  become  a  rule  that  every  village  furnish 
its  man.  The  people  counted  this  a  rare  privilege,  but  it 
meant  hardship.  I  did  not  ask  for  the  medium  ones; 


114  SOCIAL    CHRISTIANITY    IN    THE   ORIENT 

I  asked  for  the  best.  I  wanted  the  men  on  whom  their 
families  had  learned  to  lean,  because  they  were  resource- 
ful and  capable.  The  mothers  of  some  of  the  later  On- 
gole  preachers  cried  when  their  sons  came  to  our  school ; 
not  as  my  mother  cried,  because  she  had  to  let  me  go 
to  the  ends  of  the  earth,  but  because  it  meant  less  to 
eat,  less  clothing,  less  of  the  humble  comforts  of  a  Mad- 
iga's  life.  In  some  cases,  where  I  took  from  aged  par- 
ents the  son  on  whom  they  relied  most  for  support,  I 
could  not  allow  such  privation;  I  helped  them.  How 
the  poverty  of  those  Madigas  descended  upon  me  at 
that  time,  as  a  weight  which  I  never  ceased  to  feel! 

There  was  no  other  way  open  to  me  but  to  offer  to 
furnish  the  food  for  those  who  came  to  school.  Other- 
wise there  would  not  have  been  a  single  man  who  could 
have  stayed  longer  than  a  month.  In  the  communal  life 
of  the  Indian  village  it  was  not  intended  that  the  Madiga 
should  lead  anything  but  a  hand-to-mouth  existence. 
Another  consideration  was  that  the  kind  of  men  whom 
I  wanted  were  sure  to  be  already  married.  I  let  their 
wives  come  with  them  to  school.  They  furnished  us 
an  opportunity  to  obtain  women  workers.  Some  were 
dull,  but  even  these,  after  a  year's  training,  were  so  far 
above  the  women  of  the  villages  that  they  were  looked 
upon  as  teachers.  Others  were  as  capable  in  learning 
to  read  as  their  husbands.  They  afterwards  taught 
school  in  those  Christian  centers  which  were  springing 
into  life.  It  cost  at  that  time  less  than  two  dollars  a 
month  to  keep  a  man  and  his  wife  in  our  school.  I  felt 
that  this  was  a  small  outlay,  in  view  of  the  great  need 
for  workers. 

Seven  men,  in  the  group  which  came  with  Rungiah, 
were  ready  to  enter  our  school.  They  formed  the  nucleus 
in  my  effort  to  raise  up  native  agency.  I  added  to  them 
constantly,  and  made  it  a  phase  of  our  work  to  which 


EDUCATION    FOR    AN    ILLITERATE    PEOPLE  1 15 

I  gave  much  thought.  I  did  not  dare  continue  baptizing 
groups  of  Madigas,  unless  I  had  teachers  and  preachers 
for  them  in  sight,  in  our  school.  The  staff  of  men  who 
later  worked  with  me  as  one  man  through  the  events 
which  followed,  gathered  around  me  during  those  first 
years  at  Ongole.  One  after  another  they  came  to  our 
school,  as  if  attracted  by  some  spiritual  law  of  gravita- 
tion. I  was  in  the  hands  of  God  in  those  days:  my 
methods  were  made  for  me,  my  future  co-workers  were 
sent  to  me,  and  meanwhile  I  was  passing  through  one 
critical  juncture  after  another. 

Into  the  midst  of  these  increasing  activities  came  a 
letter  from  Dr.  Warren  with  the  usual  notification  con- 
cerning the  funds  which  would  be  at  my  disposal  during 
the  coming  year,  1867-68.  I  was  dismayed  when  I  saw 
it.  There  was  nothing  for  schools,  and  little  for  any- 
thing else.  A  year  before  I  had  received  a  similar  notifi- 
cation. I  then  begged  for  more  money,  and  it  was  sent. 
I  now  realized  that  this  had  ceased  to  be  a  question  of 
a  mere  passing  emergency.  It  had  become  a  case  of  life 
and  death.  How  was  I  to  preach  Jesus  and  Christianize 
the  people  without  money  for  native  agency  and  for  a 
school  in  which  to  prepare  this  agency? 

I  had  heard  Dr.  Jewett  tell  of  Mr.  Day's  disappoint- 
ment, when  an  order  went  forth  from  our  society  in 
1850  that  all  schools  in  all  the  missions  be  closed.  He 
had  somehow,  by  soliciting  private  subscriptions,  man- 
aged to  continue  a  small  school.  Mrs.  Jewett  had  labored 
in  the  same  way.  It  was  hard  work  for  them.  Now 
I  was  to  face  the  same  difficulty,  accentuated  by  the  fact 
that  I  already  had  a  movement  to  deal  with.  I  was  not 
willing  to  submit.  I  wrote  a  letter  and  protested.  This 
was  my  first  encounter  with  the  Executive  Committee 
and  I  must  say  I  enjoyed  telling  about  it  afterwards. 
For  a  young  recruit  like  myself  to  be  attacking  what 


Il6  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY  IN   THE   ORIENT 

had  been  their  policy  for  many  years  was  little  less  than 
impudence.  Yet  that  is  what  I  did. 

Dr.  Warren  replied  without  delay.  He  told  me  that 
my  letter  had  occasioned  some  discussion  when  the  treas- 
urer laid  it  before  the  Executive  Committee.  They 
agreed  with  me  that  "It  is  not  good  economy  to  place 
a  man  on  missionary  ground  and  withhold  suitable  means 
and  agencies  for  prosecuting  his  work.  It  is  not  only 
impolitic,  it  is  unmerciful  and  unjust."  In  principle  they 
granted  this.  When  it  came  to  practice — the  calls  were 
many  and  the  resources  limited.  Dr.  Warren  gave  me 
a  gentle  reproof  for  the  forceful  tone  of  my  letter.  Sev- 
eral of  my  expressions  had  "grated  on  the  ears  of  some 
of  our  best  brethren."  He  had  made  it  right  with  the 
brethren,  and  had  told  them  that  I  no  doubt  meant  well. 
Perhaps  if  I  had  been  less  emphatic  they  would  have  taken 
little  notice  of  my  protest.  The  tide  turned  in  my  direc- 
tion. I  never  afterward  lacked  money  for  schools. 

I  had  come  upon  fortunate  times  in  this  respect.  Dur- 
ing the  preceding  decade  there  had  been  a  general  ten- 
dency in  the  missionary  enterprise  to  oppose  the  policy 
of  educating  orientals  into  the  Christian  faith.  Our  own 
society  had  shared  in  this  trend  of  opinion.  The  cry  was 
for  evangelization.  Then  a  reversal  began  to  make 
itself  felt.  An  impression  gained  ground  everywhere 
that  education  must  be  employed  as  a  legitimate  aid  to 
evangelization.  Liberal  views  were  expressed  here  and 
there.  Cases  like  mine  were  viewed  with  open  minds,  and 
requests  like  mine  were  granted  where  possible.  I  thus 
had  the  current  of  opinion  in  the  home  constituency  on 
my  side.  What  I  could  have  done  without  this  I  do 
not  know. 

While  waiting  six  months  for  my  reply  from  Boston, 
I  had  time  to  think  over  what  to  do  in  case  my  request 
was  not  granted.  I  would  certainly  have  done  some- 


EDUCATION    FOR    AN    ILLITERATE   PEOPLE 

thing  about  it.  The  churches  in  Iowa  and  Illinois,  where 
I  was  known,  were  sending  money  for  me  into  the  treas- 
ury, enough  and  more  than  enough  to  support  me.  I 
knew  that  there  was  more  money  available,  only  it  would 
be  a  task  to  get  it.  I  began  even  while  in  Nellore  to  in- 
terest friends  at  home  in  our  preachers  and  pupils. 
Specific  gifts  were  coming  in.  If  now  I  was  to  increase 
correspondence  of  this  kind,  doing  the  work  of  collecting 
funds  at  home,  as  well  as  the  work  on  the  foreign  field, 
it  would  result  in  unequal  distribution  of  labor.  I  felt 
then  as  I  have  always  felt,  that  the  lack  of  supply  from 
the  home  base  was  the  breaking  of  an  unwritten  pledge. 
There  was  money  enough  in  America  to  pay  for  the 
Christianizing  of  an  Asiatic  people.  I  felt  it  a  wrong  to 
withhold  it.  This  critical  juncture  pertained  to  my  rela- 
tion to  my  constituency. 

I  was  under  great  pressure  otherwise  also  at  that 
time.  If  the  Madigas  had  delayed  for  a  few  years,  while 
I  was  getting  a  nucleus  of  converts  from  the  caste  people, 
it  would  not  have  become  an  understood  fact  that  ours 
was  to  be  a  "Madiga  mission."  It  would  have  given  us 
a  chance.  But  they  were  coming.  The  only  way  open 
to  me  was  to  find  a  bridge  between  them  and  the  caste 
people;  for  I  had  not  yet  given  up  the  hope  that  they 
also  would  receive  our  message.  Education  would  have 
to  form  this  bridge  between  our  little  Christian  com- 
munity and  the  rest.  The  social  status  of  our  converts 
must  be  raised.  Their  faith  in  Jesus  Christ  was  chang- 
ing them  fast ;  it  was  making  their  lives  clean.  The  fact 
that  they  desired  an  education  was  in  itself  making  a 
new  people  of  them.  At  that  time  not  one  Pariah  in  ten 
thousand  knew  his  alphabet.  If  now  I  could  demonstrate 
to  the  caste  people  that  the  Madigas  would  cease  to  be  a 
wholly  illiterate  community,  it  surely  was  bound  to  affect 


Il8  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN    THE   ORIENT 

public  opinion.  I  was  ready  to  stake  a  good  deal  on  the 
attempt. 

There  were  three  bright  boys  in  our  school,  sons  of 
our  preachers,  who  were  ready  for  advanced  classes. 
More  boys  would  soon  follow.  We  saw  that  we  must 
have  a  school  of  higher  grade,  but  had  not  the  money 
to  engage  teachers.  All  the  money  we  had  or  could 
obtain  would  have  to  be  applied  to  the  training  of  the 
men  and  women  needed  for  the  immediate  future.  The 
government  had  a  school  in  Ongole  which  prepared  boys 
for  high  school,  including  English.  If  I  could  get  ad- 
mission into  it  for  those  three  boys  the  problem  would 
be  solved.  A  growing  number  of  Christian  boys  and 
lads  would  be  given  an  education  in  line  with  the  ex- 
aminations conducted  by  the  educational  department  of 
the  government  at  Madras.  Success  in  this  direction  was 
bound  to  affect  the  social  status  of  the  Christian  com- 
munity, and  tend  to  obliterate  the  fact  that  its  members 
were  drawn  from  the  lowest  classes.  I  pondered  this 
question  a  good  deal.  I  talked  with  the  English  mag- 
istrate, Judge  F.  H.  Sharp,  about  it.  We  decided  to 
make  a  move  in  that  direction.  There  was  much  risk  in 
it,  but  as  there  seemed  to  be  a  bare  chance  of  winning, 
I  thought  I  ought  to  go  ahead,  feeling  my  way  carefully. 

Like  a  typical  American  I  had  democratic  ideas  of 
education.  An  aristocracy  of  learning,  as  represented  by 
the  Brahmans,  was  foreign  to  my  way  of  thinking.  I 
had  the  British  Government  on  my  side.  These  three 
boys  were  British  subjects  and  as  Christians  were  of  the 
religion  of  the  ruling  race.  My  first  step  was  to  lay 
the  matter  before  the  native  officials  of  Ongole,  in  order 
to  influence  public  opinion  of  the  town  through  them. 
I  told  them  that  we,  in  America,  would  not  think  of  ex- 
cluding anyone  from  our  free  schools.  I  urged  upon 
them  that  I  was  not  asking  admission  for  these  Chris- 


EDUCATION    FOR   AN    ILLITERATE   PEOPLE 

tian  boys  to  any  school  that  belonged  distinctly  to  the 
Hindu  community.  I  wanted  the  right  of  entrance  for 
them  to  a  school  located  there  by  the  enlightened  Chris- 
tian rulers  of  the  land.  They  listened  respectfully,  and 
told  me  they  would  place  nothing  in  my  way.  They 
gave  me  the  right  to  try  my  scheme. 

The  headmaster  of  the  school,  a  Brahman,  invited 
me  to  visit  the  school.  I  went  at  a  time  specified, 
and  found  the  tahsildar  and  munsiff  of  Ongole  had  also 
come.  The  police  inspector  who  had  the  task  of  protect- 
ing me  was  there  too.  While  I  was  talking  in  a  friendly 
way  with  headmaster  and  pupils,  I  saw  those  officials 
in  consultation.  I  joined  their  group.  They  told  me 
as  their  decided  opinion  that  if  I  brought  the  Christian 
boys  into  the  school,  all  the  present  pupils  would  leave. 
Probably  their  own  sons  and  nephews  were  among  these 
pupils.  I  gathered  from  what  they  said  that  the  sub- 
ject had  become  the  talk  of  the  town.  Definite  opposi- 
tion was  the  result.  The  parents  and  relatives  of  the 
boys  had  threatened  to  make  my  attempt  impossible.  I 
was  not  prepared  to  give  up.  I  told  them  we  would 
await  the  return  of  Judge  Sharp  to  Ongole,  and  went 
home  with  a  heavy  heart.  My  diary  says:  "What  the 
result  may  be  I  do  not  know,  but  I  believe  that  God, 
who  does  all  things  well,  will  bring  good  out  of  this, 
and  that  in  the  end  his  name  will  be  glorified  the  more. 
I  do  not  know  how,  neither  is  it  any  of  my  business." 

In  relying  upon  the  advice  and  cooperation  of  Judge 
Sharp,  I  gave  this  important  matter  into  the  hands  of  a 
man  of  extreme  measures.  Some  years  later  he  was 
extreme  in  his  own  case  and  clashed  with  the  policy  of 
the  government  which  allowed  no  interference  on  the 
part  of  its  officials  with  the  religion  of  the  Hindus.  He 
took  steps  in  being  instrumental  in  the  conversion  of  a 
Hindu  convict,  sentenced  by  him  to  death  for  murder, 


I2O  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN    THE   ORIENT 

which  brought  censure  upon  him.  The  result  was  a  sub- 
ordinate position  and  the  loss  of  half  his  pay.  He 
had  to  go  to  England  and  appeal  to  the  secretary  of 
state  in  person  before  he  could  be  reinstated.  But  I,  at 
this  juncture  in  our  history,  trusted  his  judgment. 

Some  days  after  my  visit  to  the  school  Judge  Sharp 
returned  to  Ongole.  He  took  dinner  with  us  one  eve- 
ning, and  we  talked  over  the  situation.  He  was  pre- 
pared to  use  his  power  as  the  highest  English  official 
at  Ongole  to  the  full  extent.  If  it  were  possible  to 
override  the  prejudices  of  the  Brahmans  by  the  fact 
that  this  school  was  for  all,  he  was  going  to  see  it 
done.  He  told  me  to  send  the  three  boys  to  school  the 
next  morning.  I  did  so.  He  sent  one  of  his  attendants 
to  see  what  had  been  done.  The  man  came  back  and 
reported  the  boys  were  not  there,  thinking  he  had  thereby 
postponed,  and  perhaps  averted,  a  serious  affair.  Judge 
Sharp  sent  me  a  note  and  asked  me  why  I  had  not  sent 
the  boys.  I  replied  I  had  sent  them.  He  saw  that  the 
crisis  had  come,  and  went  to  the  school.  He  found  the 
three  boys  on  the  steps  outside.  They  had  been  refused 
admittance  even  to  the  veranda. 

Taking  hold  of  the  hands  of  the  boys,  to  show  that 
he  was  not  afraid  of  pollution,  he  walked  into  the  school 
with  them.  Before  all,  with  the  intention  that  it  should 
be  reported  over  the  town,  he  talked  indignantly  to  the 
headmaster,  and  told  him  that  the  government  required 
of  its  teachers  that  they  should  be  enlightened  men.  He 
did  then  what  he  must  have  known  from  his  long  ex- 
perience in  the  country  was  too  extreme  a  measure :  he 
made  the  Christian  boys  look  over  into  the  same  books 
as  the  Hindu  boys,  reading  with  them,  and  touching 
them.  He  wanted  the  Hindus  to  see  how  harmless  the 
touch  was;  for  these  Christian  boys  were  as  clean  and 
bright  as  they.  I  heard  of  it  all  and  realized  that  Judge 


EDUCATION    FOR   AN    ILLITERATE   PEOPLE  121 

Sharp  had  played  at  high  stakes.  There  could  be  no 
halfway  result;  it  was  either  win  or  lose.  My  diary 
says:  "The  good  Lord  can  work  marvelous  changes  if 
he  please.  The  end  will  be  right  no  doubt."  The  next 
day,  September  25,  1867,  has  the  following  entry:  "The 
Brahman  boys  have  all  left  the  school,  so  I  hear,  and 
now  only  thirteen  in  all  remain.  Yesterday  morning 
there  were  over  sixty  in  daily  attendance."  I  say  nothing 
more.  There  my  diary  ends.  No  diary  was  kept  during 
all  the  year  that  was  now  before  me. 

Thus  I  found  myself  defeated.  Still  I  was  not  going 
to  submit.  I  opened  an  Anglo-vernacular  school.  I  en- 
gaged a  teacher  and  was  going  to  make  it  a  permanent 
institution.  But  before  two  years  had  passed,  the  con- 
verts were  coming  by  the  hundred,  all  as  ignorant  as 
possible.  We  felt  under  great  pressure  to  provide  a 
staff  of  workers  by  a  short  process  of  training.  It  split 
up  our  energies  to  conduct  a  school  aiming  solely  at 
preparation  for  a  high  school  course.  At  that  juncture 
we  had  to  make  evangelization  our  aim,  and  education 
had  to  have  for  its  object  a  speedy  preparation  of  native 
agency.  Quantity  was  wanted  just  then;  we  could  not 
wait  for  quality.  I  closed  that  Anglo-vernacular  school. 
We  put  all  our  strength  into  Mrs.  Clough's  normal 
school,  and  we  obtained  what  we  sought:  a  large  staff 
of  workers. 

Yet,  take  it  altogether,  I  think  that  defeat  was  a 
serious  loss  to  us.  We  ought  to  have  had  well-educated 
men  right  through  the  years.  It  crippled  us  at  just  that 
point  in  our  development.  We  lost  twelve  years  or  more 
in  our  advance  in  educational  development,  and  I  do  not 
know  whether  we  ever  caught  up.  If  that  government 
school  had  educated  a  nucleus  of  boys  for  us  who  would 
have  been  ready  for  our  high  school  when  we  did  open 
one,  everything  would  have  fallen  into  line.  As  it  was, 


122  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN    THE   ORIENT 

we  had  scarcely  a  boy  ready  for  high  school  classes  when 
we  began  such  a  school  in  1880.  A  controversy  then 
broke  out  in  the  mission.  Over  no  question  from  begin- 
ning to  end  have  I  had  such  serious  trouble  as  over  the 
question  of  the  higher  education  of  our  Christians,  and 
it  began  in  that  defeat  in  September,  1867. 

As  for  those  Brahmans,  there  came  another  day,  nearly 
twenty  years  later,  when  I  opened  a  high  school  in  On- 
gole  for  our  Christian  boys,  and  allowed  the  caste  boys 
to  come  to  it,  on  payment  of  tuition  fees.  All  went  well 
till  a  Christian  boy  was  ready  to  enter  the  highest  class. 
Then  the  Brahman  boys  in  it  protested  and  left  the 
school  and  took  most  of  the  other  caste  boys  with  them. 
It  was  a  stampede  once  more.  I  sent  out  word  that  if 
the  Brahman  boys  did  not  wish  to  recite  with  the  Chris- 
tian boys,  they  could  stay  away,  the  school  would  con- 
tinue just  the  same.  They  came  back.  By  the  time  an- 
other ten  years  had  passed,  a  still  greater  change  had 
come  over  Ongole  public  opinion.  A  deputation  of  the 
leading  Brahmans  of  Ongole  addressed  a  petition  to  our 
missionary  board  in  Boston,  asking  them  to  found  a 
college  in  Ongole  where  they  knew  our  Christian  lads 
would  sit  side  by  side  on  the  same  benches  with  their 
own  sons. 

It  was  a  long  road  which  I  traveled  between  Judge 
Sharp's  well-meant  attempt  in  1867  and  the  founding 
of  the  Ongole  College  in  1893.  It  meant  twenty-six 
years  of  hard  work. 


IX 

A     CRISIS    AND     MY    ORDERS 

THAT  episode  of  our  attempt  to  raise  the  status  of  the 
Madigas  by  claiming  for  them  the  educational  advan- 
tages granted  to  all,  theoretically,  by  the  government, 
became  known  over  all  that  region.  If  thus  far  it  had 
been  merely  a  matter  of  comment  that  only  Madigas 
were  joining  our  mission,  it  now  became  a  settled  fact. 
I  had  done  something  which  practically  locked  the  door 
behind  me.  I  could  not  retreat.  Public  opinion  had 
spoken  a  decisive  word.  I  did  not  at  the  time  see  it  in 
all  its  bearings.  But  the  die  was  cast.  Ours  was  hence- 
forth a  Madiga  mission.  I  became  the  "Madiga  Dhora.'' 

I  was  sustained  at  that  time  by  the  zeal  with  which 
the  outcaste  came  flocking  to  us.  It  did  me  good  to 
see  how  thirsty  they  were  for  the  message  of  salvation, 
and  how  gladly  they  believed  in  Jesus.  They  crowded 
to  our  Sunday  services.  Our  sitting  room  was  soon  too 
small.  The  veranda  too  was  filled  to  overflowing.  It 
was  well  that  I  had  determined,  even  before  we  left  Nel- 
lore,  that  we  must  have  a  chapel.  We  wanted  it  in  the 
compound,  facing  the  road.  During  the  week  it  was  to 
serve  as  schoolhouse.  I  could  not  wait  to  get  the  money 
from  America.  A  spirit  of  giving  and  self-denial  was 
abroad  among  us.  Generous  subscriptions  came  from  the 
English  officials  of  the  district.  A  wealthy  deacon  in  the 
Madras  Baptist  church  gave  a  liberal  sum.  The  rest  was 

123 


124  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN   THE   ORIENT 

made  up  in  small  gifts.  I  gave  much  attention  to  the 
building  of  it,  and  kept  the  expense  down  to  about 
$1,000.  It  was  large  enough  to  seat  several  hundred  peo- 
ple. Ten  years  later  I  enlarged  it,  and  thus  it  still 
stands.  Before  the  doors  and  windows  were  in,  or  the 
floor  was  laid,  we  held  our  services  in  it.  I  preached  the 
dedication  sermon  on  October  13,  1868,  from  the  text 
"Prepare  to  meet  thy  God,"  Amos  4:12. 

I  had  lost  interest  in  writing  a  diary.  I  thought  the 
future  held  nothing  in  store  that  would  be  worth  writing 
about.  Now  and  then  I  noted  down  incidents  that  struck 
me  as  important,  dealing  with  bare  facts,  like  mile-stones 
in  my  own  experience.  It  was  all  in  the  way  of  adjust- 
ing myself  to  the  social  institutions  of  the  people. 

Everywhere  I  was  confronted  by  the  powerful  grip 
in  which  caste  was  holding  everyone.  One  day,  as  I 
passed  through  the  bazaar  of  Ongole,  I  saw  an  elderly 
woman  lying  in  a  ditch  by  the  road,  uncared  for,  in  con- 
vulsions. I  procured  a  mat,  placed  her  on  it,  and  did 
what  I  could  for  her.  I  inquired  whether  there  was  no 
one  belonging  to  this  woman.  She  had  a  brother  living 
in  Ongole  and  a  daughter  ten  miles  away.  I  sent  her 
a  message  that  her  mother  was  dying.  Neither  she  nor 
the  brother  dared  come  near  her.  She  had  been  out  of 
her  mind  for  some  days,  had  wandered  here  and  there, 
and  broken  caste.  To  let  her  die  in  their  home  would 
have  meant  expense  for  purifying  ceremonies  after- 
wards; for  the  people  of  their  caste  would  avoid  them. 
I  was  indignant.  I  saw  that  even  family  relationship 
and  the  sacredness  of  death  were  as  nothing  in  com- 
parison to  caste. 

Another  day,  as  I  was  passing  the  Brahman  rest- 
house  of  Ongole,  a  man  lying  on  the  veranda  called  to 
me  in  distress.  I  went  to  him.  He  was  a  Brahman 
pilgrim,  on  his  way  to  the  temple  at  Tripati  for  merit. 


A    CRISIS   AND   MY   ORDERS  12$ 

Sick  when  he  arrived,  the  Brahmans  living  near  the 
rest-house  took  for  granted  that  he  had  already  broken 
caste,  and  did  not  come  near  him.  Some  friendly  Sudras 
had  offered  him  food  but  he  was  bound  to  refuse  it.  He 
was  now  dying.  His  caste  rules  allowed  him  to  take 
medicine  from  me.  The  next  day  he  refused  that  also; 
he  shut  his  teeth  tight,  as  I  held  it  to  his  lips.  Over 
night  he  died  in  great  misery.  The  man  had  starved 
to  death  rather  than  break  his  caste. 

Then  I  learned  how  the  English  officials  were  obliged 
to  reckon  with  the  prejudices  of  the  native  people.  They 
learned  by  bitter  experience  and  passed  the  knowledge  on 
to  each  other.  One  of  them  took  me  into  his  confidence. 
He  owned  a  horse,  a  fine  animal.  It  was  stricken  with 
disease,  and  could  not  eat  nor  stand.  As  he  was  leav- 
ing Ongole  he  wanted  me  to  take  charge  of  it,  and 
placed  a  liberal  sum  in  my  hands  to  pay  for  the  horse's 
keeper,  and  for  the  best  medical  treatment  to  be  had.  I 
was  to  buy  everything  needful  for  the  horse  until  it 
died.  By  way  of  explanation,  he  intimated  to  me  that 
if  he  shot  the  animal  the  hostility  of  the  native  com- 
munity would  follow  him  to  the  next  place,  though 
far  away.  Letters  would  be  written  to  his  superiors, 
charging  him  with  deeds  he  had  not  done.  The  of- 
ficials under  him  in  the  next  place  would  become  in- 
formed, and  turn  against  him.  To  see  an  Englishman 
thus  avoid  future  trouble  was  a  revelation  to  me.  I 
promised  him  that  I  would  take  care  of  his  horse.  Then 
I  listened  to  the  comments  of  the  people.  They  talked 
of  the  horse  as  an  intelligent  animal,  with  the  courage 
of  a  man;  they  suggested  that,  perhaps,  the  nature  of 
some  one  of  noble  achievement,  who  died  prematurely, 
might  now  be  dwelling  in  the  horse,  and  it  was  well  that 
time  was  given  it  to  die  in  its  own  way.  I  wondered 
about  it  all. 


126  SOCIAL    CHRISTIANITY   IN    THE   ORIENT 

Then  something  more  was  forced  upon  my  attention. 
Several  Madigas  of  low  type  came  to  bargain  with  me 
for  the  horse.  They  wanted  it  for  purposes  of  food,  and 
offered  to  pay  as  much  as  one  of  them  could  earn  in  a 
month,  if  I  agreed  to  sell.  I  asked  questions  till  I  knew 
how  they  viewed  the  subject.  Then  I  refused.  They 
were  angry  and  felt  I  had  deprived  them  unreasonably 
of  something  they  wanted.  I  had  heard  that  the  Madigas 
were  carrion-eaters.  It  is  one  thing  to  hear;  it  is  an- 
other thing  to  come  upon  the  actual  fact.  I  had  gone 
to  a  Madiga  hamlet  of  Ongole  often,  in  the  hope  of 
working  a  change.  It  was  one  of  the  worst  of  the 
kind.  Sometimes  I  could  not  remain.  One  afternoon  I 
saw  them  gathered  together  over  something  that  in- 
terested them.  They  scattered  when  they  saw  me  com- 
ing. Some  were  angry;  some  were  ashamed.  I  went 
home  and  no  one  knows  how  disgusted  I  felt,  and  how 
sick  at  heart. 

I  saw  that  in  all  fairness  I  could  not  blame  the  caste 
people  when  they  gave  me  to  understand  that  if  I  re- 
ceived the  Madigas  all  the  rest  would  hold  aloof.  If  I, 
with  all  my  Christian  feeling  of  the  brotherhood  of 
man,  felt  the  tension,  how  could  I  ask  them  to  overlook 
the  social  disability  of  the  Madigas  ?  Was  there  no  way 
out  of  this  ?  How  had  it  come  about  that  these  outcaste 
people  were  in  such  abject  condition?  They  had  been 
held  in  it  for  many  centuries.  No  one  thought  any- 
thing else  possible  for  them. 

These  prejudices  were  due  to  a  historical  sequence 
of  events.  The  Brahmans  sometimes  say  that  we  Amer- 
icans exterminate  the  aboriginal  tribes  whom  we  find  in 
possession  of  the  soil,  and  that  then  we  come  over  to 
India  and  blame  them  for  the  way  they  treat  their 
Pariah  tribes.  They  claim  they  did  better  than  we; 
they  at  least  allowed  them  to  live,  and  left  them  a  place 


A    CRISIS   AND   MY   ORDERS  I2/ 

in  their  community,  even  though  it  was  a  humble  place. 
Perhaps  this  charge  is  not  wholly  unjust.  There  is  a 
chapter  in  our  history  of  which  we  Americans  say  as 
little  as  possible  when  we  face  Asiatics.  Men  hunt  each 
other  down  like  wolves  when  the  course  of  events  offers 
them  the  opportunity. 

In  the  India  of  prehistoric  times,  the  Pariah  tribes  of 
to-day  probably  dwelt  at  a  low  stage  of  human  develop- 
ment. It  is  a  matter  of  conjecture  whether  they  be- 
longed to  early  migrations  of  the  Dravidians,  or  whether 
they  were  pre-Dravidian.  They  were  there  when  the 
Dravidians  came  into  South  India,  perhaps  from  the 
lost  continent  Lemuria.  There  may  have  been  inter- 
tribal wars;  there  may  have  been  amicable  settlement. 
The  Sudras  of  to-day,  who  are  the  prosperous  farmers 
of  the  country,  stand  for  the  bulk  of  the  Dravidian  stock. 
The  relation  between  the  Sudras  and  the  Pariahs  is  down 
to  the  present  time  on  a  paternal,  protective  basis.  It 
points  to  a  time  when  all  had  their  place  in  the  com- 
munity, cooperating  in  mutual  service,  and  none  was 
despised.  Madiga  families  for  generations  served  the 
same  Sudra  family.  Marriage  in  the  Madiga  family  was 
delayed  till  the  Sudra  masters  celebrated  one.  The 
Madigas  dwelt  in  a  hamlet  by  themselves,  as  the  Sudras 
found  them  when  they  came  into  the  land.  But  they 
were  allowed  to  come  into  the  courtyard  of  the  Sudra 
home,  to  transact  business. 

The  element  of  harshness  came  into  the  Madiga's  life 
when  the  Brahmans  came  into  South  India,  several  thou- 
sand years  ago.  They  were  of  Indo-Aryan  stock  and 
had  come  from  Central  Asia.  They  looked  upon  the 
Dravidians  as  inferior,  though  these  Dravidians  were 
a  powerful  people,  governed  by  kings,  supplied  with 
ample  wealth  and  resources.  In  different  parts  of  the 
Dravidian  country  four  cognate  languages  were  spoken, 


128  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN    THE   ORIENT 

of  which  the  Telugu  was  one.  Gradually  the  Brahmans 
became  the  teachers  of  the  people ;  they  became  advisers 
to  the  Dravidian  kings.  The  caste  system,  which  they 
brought  with  them,  spread  over  South  India.  The  Dra- 
vidians  found  a  place  in  it.  Castes  and  subcastes  were 
evolved.  Often  a  caste  stood  for  a  trade.  Rigid  lines 
of  demarcation  were  drawn  between  these  castes.  They 
could  not  intermarry,  nor  eat  together.  On  one  point 
all  castes  were  united :  a  gulf  was  fixed  between  them- 
selves and  the  outcastes.  The  Pariah  tribes  were  left  out- 
side. The  English  Government  has  created  the  term 
Panchama,  meaning  fifth  caste,  in  order  to  give  the 
Pariah  population  a  social  standing.  Since  there  was  no 
place  for  them  in  the  four  great  castes  of  India,  they 
enter  in  as  a  caste  by  themselves. 

This  is  only  one  sign  of  many,  indicating  the  change 
which  has  come  since  I  began  my  work  in  India.  The 
Madigas,  as  I  found  them,  were  in  a  condition  almost  of 
serfdom.  In  the  communal  life  of  the  village,  they  not 
only  did  the  leather  work,  which  to  the  caste  people 
meant  pollution,  they  did  everything  else  that  others  did 
not  want  to  do.  They  were  the  scavengers  of  the  village. 
They  had  to  bear  burdens  from  place  to  place.  They 
were  oppressed  and  downtrodden  and  there  was  no  one 
to  help  them. 

I  saw  that  it  had  come  to  this:  If  I  continued  to  re- 
ceive the  Madigas  I  would  have  to  identify  myself  with 
them.  Their  sorrows  would  be  laid  upon  me.  The  hard- 
ships of  their  position  would  be  mine  to  bear.  Despised 
on  their  account,  rejected  by  the  other  castes,  I  would 
have  to  begin  at  the  bottom  round  of  the  ladder  in  India, 
and  see  about  climbing  up,  carrying  the  Madigas  with 
me.  It  all  meant  that  a  bitter  cup  was  held  to  my  lips, 
and  that  I  would  have  to  drink  it  to  the  dregs.  If  I  had 
seen  a  way  to  do  it  honorably,  I  might  have  withdrawn 


A   CRISIS   AND   MY   ORDERS  I2Q 

from  Ongole.  I  think  the  sight  of  "Prayer  Meeting 
Hill"  had  a  good  deal  to  do  with  making  me  stay  on. 
If  I  was  that  man  for  Ongole,  then  I  was  elected  to  stay, 
come  what  might.  The  words  of  Dr.  Colver  rang  in  my 
ears,  "Brother  Clough,  I  believe  that  God  from  all  eter- 
nity has  chosen  you  to  be  a  missionary  to  the  Telugus." 
I  wrote  little  to  America  during  that  year  of  the  crisis, 
yet  I  must  have  had  much  that  was  good  to  report,  for 
we  baptized  seventy-six  during  1868.  A  draft  in  pencil 
of  the  following  letter  to  Dr.  Warren,  dated  June  I, 
1868,  is  among  my  papers.  Perhaps  I  did  not  send  it  to 
him,  or  perhaps  he  thought  best  to  withhold  it  from 
print,  because  of  its  despondent  tone. 

"I  have  allowed  some  of  the  native  brethren,  who  for- 
merly belonged  to  the  Madigas,  to  come  into  the  house,  to 
take  the  baby,  and  play  with  our  little  Allen,  and  do  er- 
rands. I  married  two  couples  according  to  Christian  cus- 
tom. Therefore  many  are  angry.  They  tell  me  I  am  tear- 
ing down  all  the  customs  of  their  fathers.  To  show  their 
anger,  they  have  taken  their  children  out  of  our  little 
school,  fifteen  going  in  one  day.  They  have  tried  to  induce 
our  gardener  and  the  woman  who  helps  Mrs.  Clough  to 
leave,  threatening  to  beat  or  kill  them  if  they  did  not  leave 
us  at  once. 

"The  story  is  also  widely  circulated  that  I  am  trying  to 
get  as  many  to  believe  as  I  can  in  order  to  send  them  all 
off  to  Europe,  as  soldiers,  sailors,  or  slaves.  This  report 
works  harm.  A  young  man  came  in  from  his  village  some 
weeks  ago  and  said  he  would  be  a  Christian,  and  come  back 
in  a  few  days  to  be  baptized.  He  came  after  a  month  and 
had  a  sad  tale  to  tell.  His  own  family  had  abused  him  be- 
cause he  believed  in  the  new  religion.  His  wife's  family 
had  taken  her  from  him,  and  would  not  let  him  have  her 
again,  lest  she  also  be  sent  to  Europe. 

"And  so  it  is  from  day  to  day,  and  every  day  something 
new.  We  are  in  constant  excitement.  Our  faith,  ingenuity, 


I3O  SOCIAL    CHRISTIANITY    IN    THE    ORIENT 

and  wisdom  are  frequently  sadly  tried.  Here  we  are  in 
the  jungle,  the  great  wilderness  of  heathenism  all  around 
us.  To  look  back  is  of  no  use.  We  can  only  look  up  and 
go  ahead,  trusting  in  God  to  give  us  grace  for  every  occa- 
sion. Thus  far  he  has  not  disappointed  us.  We  believe  he 
will  not." 


Six  weeks  after  the  above  was  written,  fifty  or  sixty 
people  were  in  the  compound  asking  about  Jesus  the 
Christ.  After  much  teaching,  inquiry  and  prayer,  four- 
teen were  received  and  baptized.  In  the  village  of  Co- 
pole,  three  miles  from  Ongole,  there  was  a  small  lake 
which  had  been  enlarged  by  digging.  The  village  people 
washed  their  clothes  in  it  and  drove  their  cattle  into 
it  in  hot  weather  to  bathe  and  drink.  We  went  there 
for  the  baptism,  because  there  was  no  suitable  place 
nearer  to  Ongole.  Several  hundred  people  had  come 
out  from  the  village,  and  stood  on  the  high  bank  of 
the  lake.  They  saw  me  give  a  sacred  ordinance  of  my 
religion  to  people  whom  they  scarcely  allowed  to  come 
within  ten  feet  of  them.  They  pointed  at  me  with  de- 
rision. Abusive  words  fell  from  their  lips.  They  said 
among  themselves  that  they  would  sue  me  for  defiling 
the  water  of  their  lake  by  immersing  these  low  people 
into  it.  They  afterwards  sent  me  a  message  that  they 
would  beat  me  and  those  who  came  with  me,  if  we  dared 
to  repeat  this. 

Thus  reviled  and  threatened  with  violence,  I  had  at 
the  same  time  to  fight,  almost,  to  keep  some  deluded 
ones  from  worshiping  me.  Afterwards  I  took  it  all 
with  equanimity.  Between  attempts  made  to  kill  me  and 
attempts  to  worship  me,  God  helped  me  to  keep  my  head 
level.  But  now,  during  the  year  of  the  crisis,  I  took 
it  hard.  I  wanted  to  go  away  and  see  no  more  of  it. 
In  a  letter  to  ^Boston,  September  29,  1868,  I  related  the 


A    CRISIS   AND   MY   ORDERS  13! 

case  of  a  woman  who  told  the  preachers  that  she  had 
heard  about  the  Lord  Jesus  some  time  ago  from  Periah, 
who  had  passed  through  her  village.  She  made  a  vow 
that  if  her  daughter,  who  was  sick  at  the  time  recovered, 
she  would  believe  in  him  and  worship  him.  Her  daugh- 
ter was  well,  and  was  now  in  Ongole  with  her,  and  she 
therefore  believed.  The  preachers  felt  some  mistrust. 
They  asked,  "Where  is  Jesus  Christ?"  To  my  astonish- 
ment and  horror,  the  old  woman  turning  around,  pointed 
her  finger  at  me  and  said,  "He  is  Jesus  Christ,  and  for 
six  months  I  have  believed  in  him  and  prayed  to  him." 

"I  might  enumerate  similar  instances,  plenty  of  them, 
but  to  write  out  this  one,  according  to  facts,  makes  me 
shudder.  .  .  .  Like  the  great  missionary  to  the  Gentiles  and 
his  companion,  who  rent  their  clothes  (Acts  14:14),  such 
scenes  make  me  feel  very  sad  and  sick  at  heart ;  and,  while 
I  exclaim,  'Sirs,  why  do  ye  these  things?  We  are  also  men 
of  like  passions  with  you,  and  preach  unto  you  that  you 
should  turn  from  these  vanities  and  serve  the  living  God' — 
the  feeling  creeps  over  me  that  I  should  like  to  flee  from 
such  scenes  to  a  country  where  I  should  never  see  them  re- 
peated. But,  of  course,  these  feelings  give  way  to  better 
ones,  sent  by  the  Comforter." 

I  came  close  to  having  good  cause  for  going  home 
during  that  year  of  the  crisis.  While  out  on  tour  in 
Podili,  I  had  a  severe  attack  of  jungle  fever.  With  dif- 
ficulty I  made  the  journey  of  thirty  miles  back  to  Ongole. 
For  a  time  I  thought  a  decisive  word  had  been  spoken, 
and  that  my  work  in  India  had  thus  come  to  an  end. 
But  I  recovered. 

The  year  dragged  on.  It  was  a  continual  question  in 
my  mind:  Did  I  do  right  in  admitting  those  Madigas? 
Could  I  have  entered  into  some  kind  of  compromise? 
But  I  was  too  democratic  for  a  compromise.  It  would 


132  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN   THE   ORIENT 

have  been  against  my  religious  convictions.  I  received 
these  Christians  from  the  Madigas  with  open  arms,  as 
fellow  Christians  and  brethren  in  the  Lord. 

I  was  evidently  not  sure  of  my  ground  even  toward 
the  end  of  1868.  Our  third  man,  Rev.  A.  V.  Timpany, 
with  his  wife,  was  in  Nellore,  learning  the  Telugu  lan- 
guage. I  wrote  to  him  that  I  wished  we  had  some  great 
Baptist  authority  within  reach,  who  could  weigh  the 
situation  and  tell  us  whether  it  is  right  to  baptize  one 
class  of  people,  when  that  forms  a  barrier  to  all  the  rest. 
An  old  letter  from  him  is  among  my  papers,  dated  No- 
vember 5,  1868,  in  which  he  refers  to  this. 

"I  rejoice  with  you  in  your  joys  and  sympathize  with 
you  in  your  trials.  Go  on  baptizing,  brother,  those  'elect  of 
God.'  A  converted  Madiga  is  as  good  as,  and,  if  more 
pious,  better,  in  the  eye  of  God  than  a  converted  Brahman. 
God  knows  best  how  to  work.  He  is  working  from  the 
bottom  upward.  According  to  our  faith  be  it  unto  us.  Hard 
times  you  have,  Brother  Clough.  Glad  of  it.  Anything  but 
stagnation.  We  have  no  one  here  to  decide  on  'Principles 
and  Practices'  except  ourselves,  but  we,  too,  are  'titled'  men, 
and  can  serve  till  greater  ones  come." 

Mrs.  Clough  had  carried  her  share  of  the  disappoint- 
ment which  had  oppressed  us  all  that  year.  Not  only  as 
it  affected  me,  but  in  her  own  activities  she  realized  how 
much  was  at  stake.  If  her  school  was  to  have  none  but 
Madiga  pupils,  and  the  staff  of  mission  helpers  was  to  be 
wholly  composed  of  Madigas,  her  expectation  of  the  kind 
of  work  she  wanted  to  build  up  was  bound  to  be  lowered 
considerably.  We  kept  our  house  open  and  were  ac- 
cessible to  the  people,  and  let  them  "come  near,"  and 
get  glimpses  of  our  home  life.  If  that  stream  of  visitors 
was  to  dwindle  down  to  Madigas,  mostly,  it  would  make 
a  difference  with  her,  too.  We  had  been  carrying  this 


A   CRISIS   AND   MY   ORDERS  133 

load  together,  and  were  now  jointly  given  an  assurance 
that  what  we  had  done  was  right.  We  received  what 
was  to  us  a  direct  command  from  God  to  continue  in 
our  course. 

One  Sunday  evening  I  was  sitting  in  my  study  with 
a  weight  on  my  soul  that  seemed  insupportably  heavy. 
I  had  been  out  in  Copole  again,  baptizing  a  group  of 
Madigas.  Several  hundred  caste  people  had  stood  on 
the  bank  as  before,  with  threatening  looks  expressing 
their  contempt.  It  had  come  to  be  a  situation  from 
which  I  could  not  retreat,  nor  was  I  willing  to  go  ahead. 

In  a  corner  of  my  study  there  was  a  pile  of  about  three 
hundred  new  Bibles,  recently  sent  by  my  order  from 
the  Bible  Society  in  Madras.  English  soldiers  at  that 
time  frequently  passed  through  Ongole,  on  their  way 
between  Madras  and  Hyderabad.  They  invariably  came 
to  our  mission  house,  and  I  had  the  custom  of  giving 
each  one  an  English  Bible  to  take  away  with  him.  Sim- 
ply by  way  of  diverting  my  thoughts,  I  went  to  this  pile 
of  Bibles,  picked  up  one  of  them,  and  aimlessly  let  it 
fall  open  of  its  own  accord.  I  was  startled  to  find  before 
my  eyes  the  wonderful  words  of  the  Apostle  Paul,  I 
Corinthians  i :  26-29 : 

"For  ye  see  your  calling,  brethren,  how  that  not  many 
wise  men  after  the  flesh,  not  many  mighty,  not  many  noble, 
are  called: 

"But  God  hath  chosen  the  foolish  things  of  the  world  to 
confound  the  wise;  and  God  hath  chosen  the  weak  things 
of  the  world  to  confound  the  things  which  are  mighty ; 

"And  base  things  of  the  world,  and  things  which  are 
despised,  hath  God  chosen,  yea,  and  things  which  are  not, 
to  bring  to  naught  the  things  that  are;  that  no  flesh  should 
glory  in  his  presence." 

The  impression  made  upon  me,  as  I  read  these  words, 
was  profound.  It  seemed  like  a  voice  from  heaven.  An 


134  SOCIAL    CHRISTIANITY    IN    THE   ORIENT 

experience  had  come  to  me  like  unto  that  of  the  Apostle 
Peter,  when,  on  the  house-top,  in  a  vision,  a  sheet  full  of 
unclean,  creeping  things  came  down  before  him,  and  he 
was  told  to  arise  and  eat.  The  centurion,  Cornelius,  was 
even  then  knocking  at  his  door,  and  with  him  the  whole 
pagan  world.  The  Apostle  Peter  wanted  the  Jews  to 
believe  in  the  Jesus  whom  they  had  crucified.  In  his 
Jewish  exclusiveness  he  looked  with  aversion  upon  the 
coming  of  the  Gentiles.  He  had  been  wrestling  with 
the  question;  for  he  knew  that  if  the  lower  classes  of 
the  Gentiles  pressed  into  the  kingdom,  the  higher  classes 
of  the  Jews  would  hold  aloof.  He  now  obeyed.  The 
church  at  Jerusalem  called  him  to  account,  and  when 
he  explained  to  them  how  God  spoke  to  him  in  a  vision, 
"they  held  their  peace,  and  glorified  God."  Thus  did  I 
have  to  reconcile  American  Baptists  to  that  which  was 
done  in  their  Telugu  Mission.  The  result  in  both  cases 
was  that  the  common  people  came  gladly. 

While  sitting  deep  in  thought,  trying  to  adjust  myself 
to  the  new  point  of  view,  Mrs.  Clough  came  into  the 
room.  She  had  put  our  two  children  to  sleep.  Before 
she  sat  down,  she  went  to  that  pile  of  Bibles,  picked  up 
one,  and  let  it  open  where  it  would.  She  stopped  in  her 
reading,  and  remarked,  "It  seems  to  be  God's  plan  to 
save  these  outcastes  first."  I  was  amazed.  I  sat  near 
enough  to  her  to  see  that  her  Bible  had  opened  to  the 
same  place  as  mine.  It  was  not  the  same  book;  for 
mine  was  still  open  before  me.  I  asked  her  what  led 
her  to  this  conclusion.  She  said  it  weighed  on  her  mind 
that  more  Madigas  had  been  baptized  that  day ;  she  knew 
what  the  effect  would  be.  In  order  somehow  to  get 
comfort  and  courage,  she  had  gone  to  that  pile  of  Bibles 
and  had  picked  up  the  nearest  one,  and  had  opened  it  at 
random.  Here  were  the  verses. 

I  told  her  what  my  experience  had  been.    It  made  no 


A    CRISIS    AND    MY    ORDERS  135 

difference  to  us  that  these  Bibles  were  all  recently  bound, 
and  that,  perhaps,  all  would  open  to  the  same  place. 
The  great  luminous  fact  to  us  both  was,  that  we,  inde- 
pendently of  each  other,  in  the  same  manner,  and  almost 
at  the  same  time,  had  received  the  same  word  of  com- 
mand. God  had  spoken  to  us.  From  that  moment  our 
doubts  were  gone.  We  believed  that  these  poor,  de- 
graded Madigas  were  sent  to  us.  We  had  our  orders  to 
go  to  the  most  despised  class  in  India  and  bring  them  to 
the  Lord  Jesus.  We  went  ahead,  thereafter,  nothing 
doubting. 


X 

COMING     BY     HUNDREDS 

THE  year  1869  was  a  great  year  in  our  history.  The 
converts  had  been  coming  in  tens;  they  now  began  to 
come  in  hundreds.  Nine  years  later  was  the  day  of 
thousands. 

I  had  shaken  myself  free  from  the  fetters  of  doubt 
and  disappointment  which  had  weighed  me  down,  and 
was  ready  now  for  anything.  Believers,  in  small  com- 
panies, were  constantly  being  brought  by  the  preachers 
into  Ongole.  I  let  them  feel  that  their  desire  to  follow 
my  Master  Jesus  was  precious  to  me.  The  call  came 
from  one  village  after  another  for  my  presence.  I  fol- 
lowed eagerly  every  call.  Wherever  there  was  a  vil- 
lage where  they  were  asking  about  Jesus,  that  was  the 
village  where  I  wanted  to  go.  No  matter  about  the 
hardship,  I  went — roads  or  no  roads. 

A  movement  was  in  progress  among  the  Madigas. 
We  were  all  hard  at  work.  The  helpers,  who  had  come 
from  Nellore  with  us,  were  full  of  zeal.  Obulu,  who 
had  prayed  in  his  hut  in  the  corner  of  our  compound 
for  many  years,  was  going  far  and  near  as  colporter. 
He  was  a  Mala  and  could  reach  the  Malas.  Some  came, 
but  they  remained  few  in  number.  It  was  a  tribal  move- 
ment. Word  went  over  the  land  that  a  great  salvation 
had  come  to  the  Madigas.  Periah  and  Paul  were  tire- 
lessly going  from  one  taluk  to  another.  Given  a  band 

136 


COMING   BY    HUNDREDS  137 

of  workers  like  ours,  something  was  bound  to  be 
achieved.  But  our  output  of  effort  could  not  at  all 
adequately  account  for  the  results  achieved.  It  was  as 
if  the  fuel  had  been  lying  ready,  and  we  needed  only 
to  strike  the  light;  the  flame  spread  of  itself.  In  my 
report  for  1868  I  stated: 

"It  is  evident  to  me  that  the  Madigas  are  given  to  Christ, 
and  that  the  time  is  near  when  thousands  of  them  will  be- 
lieve to  the  saving  of  the  soul.  To  see  how  they  drink  in 
the  words  about  Jesus  would  do  you  good.  While  preach- 
ing to  those  poor  people  many  times  have  the  words  of  the 
Master  come  to  my  mind :  'Say  not  ye,  there  are  yet  four 
months  and  then  cometh  harvest?  Behold,  I  say  unto  you, 
lift  up  your  eyes,  and  look  on  the  fields ;  for  they  are  white 
already  to  harvest.'  These  Madigas  have  not  many  preju- 
dices to  overcome,  and  not  much  property  to  lose  if  they 
become  Christians,  but  it  requires  just  as  much  of  a  miracle 
to  regenerate  one  man  as  another,  and  in  any  case  it  is 
nothing  short  of  a  miracle." 

In  a  cool,  clear  survey  of  the  field,  and  speaking  only 
of  the  immediate  future,  I  could  point  to  the  ingather- 
ing that  was  already  in  sight.  We  were  laying  the 
foundations  at  that  time.  If  the  work  of  those  first  years 
had  been  less  solid,  if  it  had  been  the  work  of  any 
one  man,  or  any  group  of  men,  and  the  Lord  Jesus  had 
not  been  in  it,  the  whole  subsequent  structure  would 
have  fallen  into  ruins. 

We  began  the  year  1869  with  a  week  of  prayer.  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Timpany  were  visiting  us,  deeply  interested  in 
seeing  the  people  athirst  for  the  tidings  of  Jesus.  Mr. 
Timpany  wrote  to  Dr.  Warren  at  that  time :  "Send  us 
men  and  means  and  by  the  help  of  our  Master  we  will 
gather  this  people  by  the  thousands."  On  the  first  Sun- 
day of  his  stay  twenty-three  came  to  our  morning  serv- 


138  SOCIAL    CHRISTIANITY    IN    THE    ORIENT 

ice,  asking  baptism.  He  joined  us  in  spending-  three 
hours  that  afternoon  with  those  inquirers.  We  listened 
to  their  own  experience;  we  heard  them  tell  how  they 
believed  in  Jesus  as  their  Saviour  and  desired  to  give  up 
their  old  life  for  the  new.  In  every  case  there  was  some 
one  who  knew  them,  who  had  taught  them  all  they  had 
learned  of  the  new  religion,  and  who  now  stood  ready 
to  bear  testimony.  Evidence  of  newness  of  life  was 
easily  detected  in  the  simple  lives  they  led.  Often  there 
was  a  look  in  the  eyes  that  told  the  whole  story.  Out 
of  those  twenty-three,  twelve  were  received ;  for  the  rest 
arrangements  were  made  that  they  might  receive  fur- 
ther instruction. 

There  was  an  urgent  call  out  to  the  Kanigiri  taluk. 
It  was  now  a  year  since  the  baptism  of  the  twenty-eight 
at  Tallakondapaud.  Periah  had  been  bringing  converts 
from  this  taluk  with  him  to  Ongole  for  baptism  all 
through  the  year.  By  this  time  there  was  probably  not 
a  Madiga  in  all  that  taluk  who  had  not  heard  about 
Jesus  Christ.  Mr.  Timpany  went  with  me  on  this 
tour.  He  was  the  first  eye-witness  to  the  work  now  in 
progress.  Many  a  man  in  the  course  of  the  years  did 
I  take  touring  with  me,  none  more  heart  and  soul  with 
me  than  he.  The  Telugu  language  was  still  new  to  him, 
but  there  was  much  for  his  eyes  to  see.  The  people 
were  expecting  us  everywhere.  When  we  passed  through 
villages,  they  came  out  to  the  road  to  see  us  and  hear 
us.  Where  we  pitched  our  tent  we  had  no  lack  of 
listeners.  Everybody  was  in  a  receptive  mood.  We  told 
the  people  the  story  of  Jesus.  They  listened,  and  as- 
sented. They  said  they  believed  in  him,  but  wanted  to 
learn  more. 

Mr.  Timpany,  as  he  looked  on,  counted  more  than  one 
hundred  during  our  tour  with  whom  assent  had  grown 
into  conviction.  In  this  he  was  largely  guided  by  the 


COMING   BY    HUNDREDS  139 

bearing  of  the  people;  for  he  could  only  partly  follow 
the  drift  of  conversation.  He  had  helped  in  revivals 
in  America.  The  look  on  a  white  man's  face,  when 
in  his  soul  is  performed  that  act  which  we  call  conver- 
sion, is  like  the  look  in  the  face  of  even  the  humblest 
Asiatic  when  he  says  he  believes  in  Jesus,  the  Saviour, 
and  will  follow  him.  We  stayed  several  days  in  the 
grove  near  Tallakondapaud.  More  than  fifty  people  had 
come  from  surrounding  villages,  bringing  provisions 
with  them,  determined  to  stay  as  long  as  we  stayed. 
Everything  that  was  said  and  done  was  of  importance 
to  them.  Life  had  taken  on  a  new  meaning.  There 
were  twenty-six  asking  baptism,  of  whom  sixteen  were 
received. 

The  movement  had  had  its  beginning  in  the  Kanigiri 
taluk.  It  soon  spread  to  the  Podili  taluk  adjoining  it. 
There  were  in  this  taluk  several  Madiga  families  inter- 
related, which  stood  above  the  average.  They  were 
thrifty.  Their  huts  were  of  ample  size  and  kept  in  good 
repair.  They  had  a  few  crude  pieces  of  furniture  with 
the  needed  cooking  utensils.  Each  member  of  the 
family  had  a  suit  of  clothes  to  wear,  and  something  for 
extra  occasions.  There  were  a  few  head  of  cattle,  and 
a  few  acres  of  land.  They  were  attached  to  some  Sudra 
families  and  helped  to  cultivate  their  fields,  for  which 
they  received  their  portion  of  grain  at  harvest  time. 
They  also  did  leather  work.  It  was  possible  for  them 
now  and  then  to  make  an  outlay  of  money  for  religious 
purposes. 

Along  the  line  of  religious  devotion  they  had  found 
advancement  in  their  social  status  also.  They  still  kept 
up  the  village  worship,  bowing  before  the  idols  set  up 
under  the  trees  here  and  there  and  bringing  gifts.  All 
castes  thought  it  well  to  do  this.  In  addition  they  had 
for  a  number  of  years  received  teaching  from  wandering 


I4O  SOCIAL    CHRISTIANITY    IN    THE   ORIENT 

Gurus,  who  were  followers  of  the  Yogi  Nasriah.  They 
had  learned  from  them  to  sing  hymns  and  recite  verses 
that  had  mystical  meaning.  It  was  contact  for  them 
with  an  Indian  reform  movement  which  had  a  tendency 
to  uplift  them  both  religiously  and  socially. 

The  Yogi  Nasriah  had  wielded  a  strong  influence  for 
good  over  all  that  region.  He  was  a  Mohammedan ;  his 
name  Nasr  was  given  the  Telugu  ending,  and  the  people 
called  him  Nasriah.  In  his  early  years  he  had  received 
from  a  Yogi  an  initiation  of  an  unusual  order.  Stories 
were  told  of  his  supernormal  powers,  and  the  people 
greatly  revered  him.  Some  wealthy  caste  people,  who 
had  confidence  in  him  as  a  Yogi,  built  him  a  temple  at 
Tiprantakamu  in  the  Markapur  taluk.  They  hoped  thus 
to  obtain  salvation  for  their  souls.  In  this  temple 
Nasriah  lived  as  an  ascetic.  People  from  far  and  near 
came  to  him,  and  he  taught  them.  In  a  simple  way 
which  all  could  understand,  he  told  them  that  there  is 
one  God,  and  he  is  Spirit.  He  gave  them  an  ethical  code 
similar  to  the  Christian  code.  He  forbade  idol-worship. 

Nasriah  frowned  on  caste.  He  received  all  who  came, 
regardless  of  caste  or  sex  or  creed.  As  is  customary 
with  a  Yogi,  he  had  a  group  of  disciples  to  whom  he 
gave  the  inner  teaching  which  is  guarded  by  initiations. 
There  were  many  also  who  were  coming  and  going,  who 
gathered  something  of  the  teaching  and  then  went  over 
the  country  giving  it  out  to  the  people  in  return  for 
gifts.  Men  of  this  kind  were  available  to  the  Madigas 
as  Gurus,  and  they  were  glad  to  learn  from  them.  It 
was  better  than  anything  they  had  previously  known. 
After  Nasriah's  death,  which  probably  occurred  about 
the  year  1825,  his  followers  became  corrupt.  He  was  no 
longer  there  to  rebuke  them.  They  grew  lax  in  ethical 
precepts;  they  used  intoxicants;  they  resorted  to  hemp 
in  order  to  produce  trance  conditions.  Idol-worship  was 


COMING   BY    HUNDREDS  14! 

permitted.  Notwithstanding  the  decline  in  the  original 
strength  of  Nasriah's  movement,  it  endured,  and  still 
stands  for  something  that  is  higher  than  the  polytheism 
of  the  Indian  village. 

It  is  said  that  Nasriah  received  a  Madiga  as  disciple, 
initiated  him,  and  then  sent  him  out  to  teach  his  people. 
No  one  knows  of  this  with  certainty.  But  it  is  a  fact 
that  there  was  a  large  contingent  of  Madigas  in  Nasriah's 
movement;  some  said  a  thousand,  some  said  less.  They 
were  to  be  found  in  all  the  region  where  the  Christian 
movement  afterwards  spread  with  great  rapidity.  Nas- 
riah had  done  preliminary  work  with  the  Madigas.  He 
gave  them  a  place  when  they  came  to  the  annual  feast 
at  Tiprantakamu.  In  groups,  families  together,  they 
came,  walking  many  miles.  Their  gifts  of  rice,  fowls 
and  spices  were  accepted.  They  were  seated  a  little  to 
one  side  in  the  temple  court,  when  the  time  for  the  feast 
came,  but  they  were  given  to  eat  of  the  same  food,  boiled 
in  the  same  pot  from  which  the  rest  received.  It  was 
a  great  advance  for  them  in  the  social  scale. 

The  Madiga  followers  of  Nasriah  only  needed  to  hear 
of  Christianity  and  they  wanted  to  know  more.  The 
seeds  of  social  revolution  had  been  sown  among  them 
by  Nasriah.  It  remained  to  Christianity  to  make  the 
application.  They  had  revered  the  personality  of  Nas- 
riah. They  now  turned  to  Jesus  with  a  devotion  that 
made  them  fearless  of  suffering.  At  Tiprantakamu  it 
was  noticed  that  the  Madigas  had  ceased  to  come  to 
the  annual  feast.  It  was  now  many  years  since  Nasriah 
had  died,  yet  no  one  had  dared  dispute  with  the  Madigas 
the  place  he  had  given  them.  Perhaps  those  in  authority 
at  the  temple  were  glad  when  they  ceased  to  come.  They 
said :  "What  can  we  do  to  hold  them?  They  are  follow- 
ing a  new  religion.  Let  them  go."  We  had  three  thou- 
sand members  when  the  ingathering  came.  Of  these  a 


142  SOCIAL    CHRISTIANITY    IN    THE   ORIENT 

large  proportion  had  called  themselves  Nasriah  people. 
The  Christian  movement  absorbed  the  spiritual  strength 
which  had  been  generated  by  that  Indian  reform  move- 
ment. It  was  taken  over  from  one  to  the  other,  un- 
sought, by  a  natural  process  of  spiritual  growth. 

Those  interrelated  Madiga  families  in  the  Podili  taluk 
were  all  Nasriah  people.  Their  attention  was  aroused  by 
rumors  which  were  passed  along  about  a  new  religion. 
They  were  glad  when  Bezwada  Paul  came  to  them.  He 
was  a  kinsman,  and  though  not  a  Nasriah  man,  he 
had  been  on  the  path  of  Yoga,  and  spoke  the  language. 
When  they  listened  to  him,  far  into  the  night,  as  he 
told  about  Jesus  Christ,  his  life  and  death,  and  when 
they  knelt  with  him  when  he  prayed  to  his  Father  in 
heaven,  they  felt  they  had  never  known  anything  like  this 
before.  The  younger  men  said  among  themselves :  "Why 
should  we  go  on  as  heretofore?  We  have  spent  much 
on  Gurus.  What  salvation  have  they  given  us?  Let 
us  go  to  Ongole."  They  were  ready  for  action.  It 
seemed  to  them  that  a  great  day  had  dawned. 

The  aged  father  of  the  Thaluri  family,  a  patriarch 
among  them  all,  asked  them  to  take  time  to  consider. 
He  reminded  them  that  they  had  not  been  without  re- 
ligious zeal  in  the  past.  Moreover,  he  had  a  daughter, 
who  became  a  widow  when  a  child.  She  had  taken  com- 
fort in  the  teaching  of  Nasriah,  singing  the  hymns.  A 
woman  now,  of  mature  years,  she  went  about,  teaching 
and  singing,  serving  God.  She  was  dear  to  the  old 
man,  and  he  insisted  that  she  must  be  consulted,  for  had 
she  not  more  piety  than  they  all?  One  of  the  sons, 
Thaluri  Daniel,  afterwards  a  valuable  man  as  Christian 
preacher,  was  restless ;  the  sister  was  at  a  distant  village. 
He  walked  two  days  to  reach  her.  She  said :  "I  have 
heard  of  this  religion.  It  is  well  that  you  have  the  desire 
to  go  to  Ongole.  Do  not  wait  for  me.  Soon  I  shall  re- 


COMING   BY   HUNDREDS  143 

turn  home,  and  then  I,  too,  shall  make  known  my  faith 
in  Jesus  Christ."  The  whole  family  came  to  us. 

In  the  Darsi  taluk,  adjoining  Podili,  there  was  a  man, 
Sreeram  Solomon,  who  had  for  years  been  a  Nasriah 
man,  but  while  north,  trading  in  hides,  he  had  heard  of 
the  Christian  religion.  He  had  made  a  compromise :  he 
still  sang  Nasriah  hymns,  but  he  prayed  as  he  had  seen 
Vongole  Abraham,  the  Christian  trader,  pray,  and  with 
the  words  he  had  used.  Filled  with  curiosity  to  see  the 
white  Dhora  in  Ongole,  he  came.  He  arranged  with 
Obulu  to  help  him  sell  tracts  as  he  went  on  trade.  Obulu 
brought  him  to  me.  He  said:  "This  man  is  not  yet  a 
Christian,  yet  he  offers  to  sell  tracts.  He  has  learned  to 
read  a  little."  I  liked  the  man.  He  was  straightforward 
and  sincere  in  manner,  and  evidently  resourceful  beyond 
the  average.  Ere  long  he  was  baptized.  I  asked  him  to 
come  to  our  school.  He  said  he  would  come,  but  his 
prosperity  as  trader  was  attractive  to  him ;  he  held  back. 

One  day  he  came  to  my  veranda  while  I  was  talking 
with  the  people,  and  said  salaam  to  me.  I  asked  him  how 
he  had  been  faring,  and  he  proudly  showed  me  thirty 
rupees,  rolled  in  a  red  cloth,  just  received  for  a  bandy- 
load  of  goatskins.  I  took  the  money  and  said :  "This  is 
the  fine  for  your  wavering  words.  Four  times  you  have 
promised  you  would  come  to  our  school,  and  you  have 
not  come.  Salaam."  I  continued  speaking  to  the  people. 
He  stood  there.  It  was  a  crisis  in  his  life.  He  asked  for 
his  money.  I  took  him  by  the  shoulder  and  gave  him  a 
kindly  shake.  After  that  he  had  a  feeling  of  nearness 
to  me  that  helped  him  much  in  his  decision.  I  said, 
"Here  is  your  money.  Will  you  come  to  school?"  "I 
will  come."  This  man  was  afterward  the  leading  preacher 
in  the  Darsi  taluk.  The  people  gathered  round  him.  The 
time  came  when  there  were  several  thousand  Christians  in 
that  taluk. 


144  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN    THE   ORIENT 

The  spread  of  Christianity  in  those  early  years  was 
very  rapid.  The  wave  now,  during  1869,  was  g°mg 
north  to  three  taluks  which  I  had  not  thus  far  regarded 
as  my  field.  I  had  confined  myself  in  my  tours  to  the 
Kanigiri,  Podili  and  Darsi  taluks  southwest  of  Ongole. 
A  government  engineer  had  been  stationed  at  Ongole  for 
a  short  time  and  had  been  baptized  by  me.  He  was  now 
in  those  three  northern  taluks,  building  bridges  and  re- 
pairing roads.  Thousands  of  coolies  were  employed 
under  him,  and  he  called  for  two  men  to  preach  to  them, 
promising  their  support.  I  sent  one  man  without  delay. 
Then  I  saw  how  Baddepudy  Abraham,  though  still  in 
school,  showed  distinct  ability  as  an  evangelist;  for  I 
took  him  out  on  tour  with  me  and  found  him  valuable. 
I  asked  him  whether  he  felt  a  call  to  those  northern 
taluks — they  were  a  hundred  miles  away  from  his  home. 
He  said  he  wanted  to  go.  It  was  the  beginning  of  a 
great  work.  During  the  ingathering  more  than  three 
thousand  from  that  region  were  baptized.  In  1883,  when 
those  three  taluks,  Vinukonda,  Nursarvupet  and  Ba- 
patala,  were  made  separate  mission  fields,  the  new  mis- 
sionaries all  wanted  Abraham.  He  had  to  divide  his 
time  and  serve  as  before.  The  man  had  become  part  of 
the  religious  life  in  three  taluks — the  people  could  not 
give  him  up. 

Early  in  1869  a  beginning  was  made  in  the  two  taluks 
west  of  Ongole,  Cumbum  and  Markapur,  under  circum- 
stances of  so  unusual  a  nature  that  the  result  was  far- 
reaching.  The  first  clash  between  the  old  order  and  the 
new  took  place  in  those  taluks.  Persecution  broke  out. 
The  people  suffered  for  Jesus'  sake,  and  far  from  being 
intimidated  thereby  they  rose  out  of  it  stronger  than 
before,  and  "many  were  added  unto  them,"  as  in  New 
Testament  times. 

Periah  and  Paul  were  distantly  related  to  some  Madiga 


COMING   BY    HUNDREDS  145 

families  in  those  taluks.  This  gave  them  opportunity  to 
enter  everywhere.  In  the  web  of  family  life  they  were 
passed  along  from  village  to  village.  They  were  here 
close  to  the  center  of  Nasriah's  influence.  The  Nasriah 
people  among  the  Madigas  received  them  with  open  arms. 
Coming  out  of  Raja  Yoga  teaching  themselves,  they 
framed  their  message  to  the  people  in  a  way  that  greatly 
appealed  to  them. 

Periah  and  Nagama  made  long  tours  together.  The 
people  loved  them.  The  women  were  glad  when  Nagama 
taught  them.  Periah,  the  man  of  fifty,  with  long  beard 
and  patriarchal  presence,  the  Guru-staff  in  his  hand,  made 
the  men  feel  that  there  must  be  something  substantial  in 
this  religion,  or  he  would  not  be  preaching  it.  Often  he 
began  his  discourses  with  some  of  the  metaphysical  state- 
ments which  he  had  used  when  he  was  a  teacher  of 
Yoga.  It  was  an  Eastern  method  and  congenial  to  the 
minds  of  the  people.  They  gave  marked  attention  then 
to  the  story  of  Jesus  which  followed,  told  with  great 
earnestness  and  power. 

Paul  differed  from  Periah.  He  was  still  a  young  man. 
There  was  a  bland,  unworldly  look  in  his  face  that  made 
his  family  say  when  he  was  a  child  that  he  was  going  to 
be  a  sanyasi — a  holy  man  or  hermit.  I  tried  to  keep  him 
in  school,  but  he  was  restless.  If  I  did  not  give  him  per- 
mission to  go  he  went  without  it.  He  was  possessed  with 
the  desire  to  go  to  every  Madiga  hamlet  in  all  that  region, 
omitting  none.  He  wanted  to  stay  long  enough  every- 
where to  tell  the  people  that  a  great  salvation  had  been 
brought  to  India,  and  that  no  one  now  need  go  unsaved. 
Jesus  Christ  had  died  for  men,  even  for  Madigas.  All 
that  was  needed  was  to  believe  in  him,  and  to  do  as  he 
had  taught  men  to  do. 

Somehow  Paul  kindled  a  fire  wherever  he  went. 
When,  after  some  weeks  of  absence,  he  suddenly  ap- 


146  SOCIAL    CHRISTIANITY    IN    THE    ORIENT 

peared  again  in  Ongole  and  told  us  where  he  had  been 
and  how  the  people  had  received  his  message,  I  could  not 
reprove  him  for  absenting  himself  suddenly  from  school. 
I  found  it  necessary  to  follow  in  his  track ;  for  the  people 
whom  he  had  met  soon  made  themselves  heard  in  their 
desire  to  know  more  of  this  salvation.  If  this  was  for 
them,  they  wanted  it.  My  coming  to  Ongole  was  pro- 
claimed to  the  Madigas  of  all  that  region  in  a  way  wholly 
oriental  by  the  two  men,  Periah  and  Paul. 

When  they  reached  those  two  distant  taluks  they  had 
an  experience  which  was  equaled  nowhere  else.  Only 
faint  rumors  had  preceded  them  of  a  white  Dhora,  staying 
at  Ongole,  who  was  sending  two  men  everywhere  telling 
of  a  new  salvation.  They  judged  of  this  in  an  oriental 
manner.  It  happens  sometimes  in  India  that  a  religious 
personality,  generally  an  ascetic  with  a  band  of  disciples, 
passes  through  some  region  on  his  way  from  one  great 
temple  to  another.  Sometimes  he  stays,  teaching  those 
who  come,  sometimes  he  moves  on.  The  people  are  will- 
ing to  walk  long  distances  if  they  can  come  into  contact, 
even  once  in  a  lifetime,  with  the  bearer  of  a  religious  mes- 
sage or  with  his  disciples.  All  this  they  applied  to  the 
tidings  about  me.  Not  until  an  increasing  number  of 
them  had  come  to  Ongole  and  had  seen  for  themselves 
that  I  was  there  at  home  did  they  cease  from  their  anx- 
iety that  they  might  miss  their  chance.  They  said,  "He 
has  wife  and  children  with  him;  he  has  come  to  stay." 
They  saw  that  Periah  and  Paul  were  only  making  a  be- 
ginning, and  that  I  had  men  in  school  who  would  soon 
settle  among  them.  After  that  they  said,  "We  will  wait 
till  they  come,  and  we  can  ask  them  more." 

In  the  meantime  Periah  and  Paul  had  a  strenuous  time 
satisfying  the  people.  During  the  night,  when  it  was 
cool  and  there  was  no  work  to  do,  groups  of  listeners 
were  formed.  By  the  time  the  story  of  the  life  and  death 


COMING   BY   HUNDREDS  147 

of  Jesus  Christ  had  been  told  in  the  hamlet  where  they 
were  staying,  fresh  groups  were  arriving  from  neighbor- 
ing hamlets.  They,  too,  wanted  to  hear  all  from  the 
beginning;  for  it  seemed  to  them  that  by  just  hearing  and 
believing  they  could  be  saved.  If,  worn  out,  as  morning 
dawned,  the  preacher  slept,  they  kept  a  man  on  guard 
near  by  to  prevent  him  from  rising  up  and  going  away 
silently  and  suddenly  as  is  the  custom  of  Hindu  Gurus. 
It  took  several  days  to  satisfy  the  people  in  a  group  of 
hamlets  that  they  had  now  heard  all  that  was  needed  in 
order  to  be  saved.  By  that  time  messengers  sent  by  the 
village  elders  of  other  hamlets  were  waiting,  with  orders 
to  bring  the  preacher,  staying  near  by  lest  he  go  else- 
where. There  was  travail  of  soul  in  all  that  region. 

Everywhere  the  men  were  willing  to  let  Periah  or 
Paul  cut  off  the  juttu — the  lock  of  hair  on  the  top  of  the 
head  which  has  religious  significance.  Sometimes  a  ma- 
jority of  the  men  in  a  Madiga  hamlet  were  ready  for 
this,  the  elders  among  them.  It  was  a  decisive  step  that 
meant  a  break  with  the  old  forms  of  worship.  The  wom- 
en were  often  bitterly  opposed  to  it,  yet  they,  too,  had 
outward  signs  of  an  inward  change.  If  they  ceased  to 
mark  their  foreheads  to  show  that  they  had  bowed  before 
the  idols,  it  could  bring  them  great  trouble.  The  caste 
people  took  note.  When  the  juttus  were  gone,  and  the 
marks  on  the  foreheads  were  missing,  it  was  often  the 
signal  for  petty  persecution. 

In  his  wanderings  in  the  Markapur  taluk,  Paul  heard 
of  a  man  who  was  praying  to  a  new  God,  and  was  there- 
fore at  variance  with  his  family.  He  went  there.  He 
found  the  man,  Vidulala  Jonah,  who  told  him  that  he 
had  been  north  on  trade  and  had  met  Vongole  Abraham. 
From  him  he  had  learned  about  Jesus  Christ.  After  his 
return  home  he  had  knelt  and  prayed  as  he  had  seen  the 
Christians  do.  His  mother  had  seen  him,  and  had  laughed 


148  SOCIAL    CHRISTIANITY   IN    THE   ORIENT 

at  him,  and  asked,  "What  new  thing-  is  this?"  She  was 
a  Matangi.  When  Jonah,  her  eldest  son,  was  three  years 
old,  she  showed  signs  of  possession.  Out  in  the  field,  at 
work,  she  looked  this  way  and  that,  and  talked  to  herself, 
and  refused  to  eat.  As  her  grandmother  had  been  a 
Matangi,  it  was  thought  that  the  power  must  have  reap- 
peared in  her. 

The  simple  story  of  the  Christ  had  here  brought  "not 
peace,  but  a  sword"  into  a  family  where  possession  was 
hereditary.  The  whole  taluk  was  bound  to  hear  of  it; 
because  this  woman  was  their  only  Matangi ;  she  had  no 
rival.  It  touched  the  Madiga  community  near  its  heart ; 
for  the  Matangi  cult  distinctly  belongs  to  the  Madigas. 
However  much  other  castes  may  take  an  interest  in  it, 
and  share  in  it  as  something  that  may  concern  them,  the 
leading  figure  in  the  cult  must  always  be  a  Madiga  wom- 
an. The  supposition  is  that  the  Matangi  is  overshadowed 
by  Ellama,  one  of  the  ten  great  Saktis  of  India,  a  form 
of  Parvati,  the  consort  of  the  god  Siva.  Ellama  is  to 
find  expression  through  the  Matangi.  Great  care  is  taken 
when  a  Madiga  woman  shows  signs  of  possession,  to  as- 
certain whether  it  is  genuine  or  spurious.  One  who  is 
already  a  Matangi  is  sent  for,  sometimes  from  a  dis- 
tance, to  make  tests,  and  then  to  initiate  the  new  Ma- 
tangi into  the  rites  of  her  office. 

All  this  had  been  done  in  the  case  of  Jonah's  mother 
many  years  before.  Since  then  she  had  gone  about  the 
taluk,  her  husband  going  with  her,  performing  the  sacri- 
ficial rites  of  the  Matangi.  Not  Madigas  only  surrounded 
her  when  she  poured  buttermilk  upon  a  bunch  of  Margosa 
leaves  and  sprinkled  the  bystanders  with  it;  caste  peo- 
ple also  stood  there.  All  believed  in  mother-worship  in 
some  form.  If  by  the  signs  of  her  possession  this  Ma- 
tangi gave  even  slight  evidence  that  the  power  of  Ellama 
was  in  her,  they  were  anxious  to  come  in  contact  with  it. 


COMING   BY    HUNDREDS  149 

It  might  save  them  from  the  evil  within  them  and  with- 
out ;  for  motherhood  is  a  potent  force. 

Hard  days  came  to  Jonah  when  he  now  declared  his 
intention  to  enter  that  new  religion.  Paul  had  remained 
in  the  neighborhood,  and  many  had  listened  to  him  and 
had  admitted  that  it  would  be  better  for  them  if  they 
could  walk  in  this  new  path.  The  time  came  for  Paul  to 
return  to  Ongole.  Jonah  went  with  him.  He  wanted 
baptism  and  was  ready  to  face  the  outcome.  It  meant  a 
break  with  his  family.  Looking  ahead,  if  his  family 
should  ultimately  come  with  him  it  meant  that  they  would 
lose  a  lucrative  pursuit  that  gave  them  some  standing  in 
the  taluk.  After  the  baptism  Jonah  returned  home  and 
was  treated  by  his  parents  as  one  hated.  They  refused 
to  let  him  sit  with  the  rest  at  meal  time.  He  bore  this 
for  a  time ;  then  there  came  a  day  when  he  could  bear  no 
more.  He  said,  "I  cannot  be  among  you.  I  am  going 
away  to  stay  with  the  Christians."  Now  the  strong  tie  of 
family  relationship  asserted  itself.  His  mother  missed 
him.  He  had  been  her  chief  support  as  Matangi.  She 
tried  to  go  about  as  usual,  but  it  was  all  half-hearted. 
With  an  unwilling  ear  she  had  listened  when  they  talked 
about  the  Lord  Jesus.  But  she  now  found  that  she,  too, 
was  believing  in  him.  With  a  younger  son  she  went  to 
the  village  where  Jonah  was  staying.  She  asked  him  to 
come  home.  She  told  him  she  had  grown  tired  of  the 
Ellama  worship  and  would  join  him  in  his  new  faith. 

It  now  became  a  question  with  Jonah  what  to  do  to 
satisfy  the  supporters  of  his  mother.  She  stood  in  a  kind 
of  contract  with  them.  They  had  assisted  in  the  heavy 
expense  of  her  initiation  as  Matangi  many  years  before. 
If  she  now  withdrew,  their  hold  upon  the  power  of  El- 
lama  ceased.  If  then  disease  came  upon  the  people,  and 
crops  failed,  and  cattle  died,  the  blame  would  be  laid 
upon  Jonah's  family.  A  compromise  was  urged. 


I5O  SOCIAL    CHRISTIANITY   IN    THE   ORIENT 

At  this  juncture  Paul  came  to  help  them.  He  was 
young  for  such  responsible  work.  But  he  knew  that  he 
had  us  all  with  him.  Moreover,  among  the  followers  of 
Yoga  he  had  learned  to  look  upon  the  Matangi  cult  as 
a  low  form  of  possession.  Now,  as  a  Christian,  his  cour- 
age was  unbounded.  He  said  to  them,  "Are  you  going 
wholly  to  become  Christians,  or  are  you  going  half  and 
half?  If  you  are  true,  give  me  the  Matangi  outfit  to  de- 
stroy." This  was  a  serious  matter  to  them.  Jonah  de- 
cided, with  Paul  there  to  help  him,  to  call  together  the 
leading  Matangi  worshipers  and  lay  the  matter  before 
them.  He  said  before  them  all:  "What  we  did  in  the 
Matangi  worship  was  evil.  We  put  much  expense  into 
it,  but  it  is  better  that  we  should  give  up  this  than  that 
we  should  lose  the  salvation  of  our  souls.  Let  us  turn 
from  it  all.  Why  should  we  keep  the  Matangi  outfit? 
With  your  leave  I  will  give  it  over  to  Paul."  These 
straightforward  words  touched  his  hearers.  They  as- 
sented. They  said,  "You  are  the  chief  in  this  matter; 
for  you  are  your  father's  eldest  son.  We  will  listen  to 
your  word." 

The  insignia  of  the  Matangi  office  were  now  handed 
over  to  Paul.  He  stood  there  before  them  all.  First  he 
broke  into  small  pieces  the  long  stick,  emblem  of  serpent 
worship,  which  the  Matangi  holds  in  her  hands.  Next 
came  the  basket  which,  filled  with  Margosa  leaves,  she 
uses  in  her  expiatory  rites,  remnant  of  ancient  tree  wor- 
ship. Paul  tore  this  into  shreds.  Next  he  reached  out 
for  the  pot  containing  the  emblematical  sea  shells,  sacred 
to  Ellama  worship.  Now  the  people  rose  against  him. 
They  refused  to  let  him  touch  the  pot.  Their  anger  had 
grown  within  them,  and  they  were  unwilling  to  witness 
further  disrespect  to  their  belief.  The  shells  had  been 
brought  from  the  sea,  which  stands  for  the  woman.  If 
Ellama  could  commune  with  them  through  the  shells  they 


COMING   BY   HUNDREDS  1$! 

were  bound  to  hold  them  in  high  esteem.  Often  the 
Madigas  built  a  hut  in  their  hamlet,  and  there  was  noth- 
ing in  it  but  a  few  pots  containing  sea  shells. 

It  was  a  square  contest.  Paul  and  Jonah  stood  on  one 
side.  The  Matangi  worshipers  of  the  taluk  stood  on  the 
other.  Their  anger  was  fierce  for  a  day.  Paul  and  Jonah 
were  conciliatory,  and  talked  to  the  people  about  the  life 
and  death  of  Jesus  Christ.  Soon  they  listened  with  an 
interest  that  made  their  old  beliefs  grow  dim  in  their 
minds.  They  forgot  their  anger,  and  said  among  them- 
selves, "This  is  better  than  anything  we  have  known." 
It  all  made  a  stir  in  the  taluk.  No  one  had  thought  it 
possible  that  such  things  could  happen.  The  caste  peo- 
ple heard  of  it,  and  wondered  how  it  was  going  to  affect 
them.  Perhaps  this  was  the  reason  why  the  Sudras  and 
Brahmans  of  the  taluk  decided  to  hold  a  feast  for  the 
god  Chinekaselu,  a  local  deity,  on  the  day  of  the  full 
moon. 

The  temple  of  this  god  was  in  the  town  Markapur,  the 
place  where  the  taluk  officials  resided.  In  the  Madiga 
hamlet  of  the  town  there  were  now  twelve  Christians, 
four  of  whom  were  village  elders.  In  the  division  of 
labor  in  the  communal  life  of  the  town  it  fell  to  the  Madi- 
gas to  perform  a  part  in  the  festivities.  There  was  a 
large  drum,  iron  on  the  sides  and  bottom,  leather  on  top. 
No  one  could  beat  this  drum  but  the  Madigas,  because  the 
contact  with  the  leather  meant  pollution.  As  the  top  was 
broken,  the  temple  authorities  sent  a  messenger  to  the 
Madigas  to  cover  it  with  a  new  hide  of  the  best  kind. 
They  were  also  to  furnish  men  for  the  days  of  the  festi- 
val to  beat  the  smaller  drums  and  to  dance  before  the 
idol  when  it  was  taken  in  procession  through  the  streets 
of  the  town.  It  was  a  test  case  perhaps  purposely  ar- 
ranged to  see  how  far  the  Christians  were  prepared  to  go. 

They  were  now  in  a  hard  place.    In  the  Matangi  cult 


152  SOCIAL    CHRISTIANITY    IN    THE    ORIENT 

they  had  settled  the  question  in  their  own  way,  because 
it  was  their  own  tribal  cult ;  but  this  new  demand  was  a 
different  matter.  They  would  have  to  disengage  them- 
selves suddenly  from  their  old-time  duties.  There  would 
be  the  caste  people  to  face.  It  would  mean  much  loss  to 
them,  not  only  by  incurring  the  displeasure  of  their 
superiors,  but  because  a  temple  festival  was  a  lucrative 
time  that  always  brought  gain  to  the  Madiga  hamlet. 
However,  they  said  to  the  messenger,  "We  are  now 
Christians  and  cannot  have  anything  to  do  with  idol- 
worship." 

The  karnam  of  Markapur,  a  Brahman,  sent  for  those 
village  elders.  They  held  their  ground.  They  told  the 
karnam  that  they  had  learned  that  God  had  forbidden 
idol-worship,  and  as  they  had  become  Christians  they 
must  obey  God's  law.  The  karnam  and  the  caste  people 
looked  upon  it  all  as  sheer  insubordination,  and  decided 
upon  coercive  measures.  One  of  the  elders  was  known 
to  have  a  hide  in  his  hut,  suitable  for  the  drum.  Con- 
stables were  sent  to  get  it,  and  to  use  force  if  necessary. 
The  owner  of  the  hide  remonstrated  and  was  severely 
beaten.  Men  who  tried  to  help  him  were  also  beaten. 
The  hide  was  carried  off. 

There  was  an  English  magistrate  in  the  adjoining 
taluk,  and  the  Christians  felt  they  must  appeal  to  him. 
They  laid  the  injured  man  on  a  light  cot  and  had  carried 
him  just  beyond  Markapur,  when  the  karnam  sent  con- 
stables to  arrest  them  all,  and  put  them  in  jail.  Witnesses 
from  the  hamlet  also  were  brought  and  locked  into  jail. 
There  were  sixteen  men  in  all.  It  was  a  long,  dark 
night.  When  morning  dawned  the  women  came  and 
stood  under  the  prison  windows  and  cried.  Jonah  and 
another  man,  Onguri  Abel,  both  afterwards  ordained 
Christian  preachers,  were  inside  and  were  keeping  up 
their  own  courage,  and  helping  the  rest.  The  man  who 


COMING   BY    HUNDREDS  153 

had  been  beaten  lay  on  the  hard  prison  floor  in  great 
pain.  One  of  the  keepers  was  disposed  to  be  kind.  He 
allowed  the  wife  of  the  man  to  hand  steaming  cloths 
through  the  window,  so  that  Jonah  and  Abel  could  lay 
them  on  the  bruises  till  the  pain  grew  less. 

In  the  course  of  the  day  the  men  were  taken  before 
the  submagistrate,  a  Brahman.  Accusations  were  made 
against  them  falsely.  Witnesses  were  brought  forward 
for  proof.  The  Christians  had  no  means  of  defense  and 
were  sentenced  to  thirty  days'  imprisonment  with  hard 
labor.  To  add  insult  to  their  hardship  they  were  set  to 
work  in  the  Vishnu  temple  grounds.  Exposed  thus  to 
the  jeers  of  bystanders,  they  were  frequently  asked: 
"How  do  you  like  being  Christians?  Will  you  learn  to 
read  now?  We  shall  keep  you  here  till  your  juttus 
grow  again."  It  was  in  the  hottest  part  of  the  year. 
The  prison  was  only  eighteen  by  forty  feet  in  size,  cov- 
ered with  a  low,  flat  roof,  the  door  was  kept  locked,  and 
there  were  but  three  small  windows.  The  ground  was 
overrun  with  insects.  Only  twice  a  day  the  keeper  gave 
the  prisoners  water  to  drink.  It  was  misery  enough  to 
test  the  faith  of  the  strongest. 

When  they  were  thrown  into  jail  Jonah  and  Abel  told 
some  reliable  Madigas  who  had  gathered  with  the  crowd 
of  onlookers,  "Go  at  once  and  tell  our  Clough  Dhora 
what  has  happened."  The  man  walked  the  seventy  miles 
in  quick  time.  If  I  had  seen  how  to  take  legal  action  I 
would  have  done  it  at  once.  I  sent  out  two  men  with  in- 
structions, but  their  courage  failed  them  when  they 
reached  Markapur.  My  message,  however,  reached  the 
men  inside,  "Sing  and  pray;  for  such  things  happened 
even  to  the  Apostle  Paul."  The  first  consternation  of  the 
prisoners  was  by  this  time  over.  They  decided  on  a  defi- 
nite course  which  practically  meant  triumph  to  them. 

Jonah  was  the  leader.    He  was  young  in  the  Christian 


154  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN   THE   ORIENT 

life,  and  had  not  learned  much  of  New  Testament  his- 
tory, but  he  knew  that  the  apostles  were  great  men  in  the 
Christian  religion.  It  comforted  him  and  the  others  to 
know  that  this  tribulation  which  had  so  suddenly  come 
upon  them  was  no  disgrace,  but  somehow  was  part  of 
Christian  experience.  Jonah  now  began  to  talk  con- 
stantly of  the  sufferings  and  death  of  our  Lord  Jesus. 
He  spoke  of  the  nails  driven  through  hands  and  feet,  the 
crown  of  thorns,  the  stripes  that  were  laid  upon  him,  all 
borne  for  the  sins  of  the  world.  He  made  light  of  the 
hardships  of  that  prison  and  said  they  deserved  them  be- 
cause of  their  own  past  sinful  lives.  That  he  was  repeat- 
ing the  same  statements  over  and  over  again,  day  after 
day,  did  not  trouble  him.  There  was  a  hymn  which  he 
now  sang.  As  yet  it  was  the  only  Christian  hymn  he 
knew.  He  sang  it  all  day  long.  The  keepers  told  him 
to  stop — they  were  weary  of  it.  Jonah  said,  "I  cannot 
stop.  This  hymn  is  what  I  must  sing,  and  I  have  to  sing 
it  all  the  time."  The  others  joined  him.  The  days 
passed.  The  officials  at  Markapur  learned  that  I  was  in 
constant  communication  with  the  prisoners,  and  thought 
best  to  release  them  earlier. 

The  deed  was  done.  A  keynote  of  the  movement  had 
been  struck.  It  was  the  first  clash  between  the  Madigas 
and  the  whole  system  of  oppression  which  had  held  them 
for  centuries.  These  men  had  suffered,  but  they  also  had 
been  glorified.  That  whole  region  marveled  greatly.  The 
sudden  and  wrongful  imprisonment  of  sixteen  men  had 
caused  comment.  But  when  the  tidings  went  over  the 
country  that  these  men  were  singing  and  praying  to  their 
God  inside  the  prison,  and  that  the  keepers  could  not 
stop  them,  the  people  walked  long  distances  to  see  and 
hear  for  themselves.  Outside  the  prison  there  had  been 
a  constantly  changing  group  of  people,  chiefly  Madigas, 
but  also  caste  people.  When  not  at  work  on  the  temple 


COMING   BY    HUNDREDS  155 

grounds,  the  prisoners  had  been  continually  singing  and 
praying.  No  one  had  ever  heard  of  anything  like  it. 
Spiritual  power  was  generated  that  made  itself  felt  for 
years  to  come. 

The  heat  had  been  unusually  severe  during  that  hot 
season.  Lakes  and  rivers  were  nearly  dry.  It  happened 
several  times  that  the  preachers  brought  converts  with 
them  to  Ongole  on  the  first  Sunday  of  the  month,  and 
there  was  no  place  where  we  could  find  sufficient  depth 
of  water  to  baptize  them.  The  threats  of  the  people  at  Co- 
pole  to  beat  us  if  we  came  again  did  not  drive  me  away, 
the  scarcity  of  water  did  it.  I  decided  to  build  a  baptis- 
tery under  a  large  tamarind  tree  in  our  garden.  It  was  a 
beautiful  shady  place.  An  idol-shrine  had  stood  there 
since  time  immemorial.  The  people  of  an  adjacent  ham- 
let had  worshiped  here,  with  bloody  sacrifice  and  the 
dance  of  possession,  performing  low  rites  of  Sakti  wor- 
ship. With  a  good  deal  of  difficulty  I  had  had  the  boun- 
dary lines  settled.  The  place  where  the  shrine  stood  be- 
longed to  us. 

When  those  villagers  heard  that  I  intended  to  demolish 
their  shrine  they  threatened  to  beat  anyone  who  touched 
it.  I  made  short  work  of  that  matter.  I  took  a  crowbar, 
ran  it  into  the  shrine  and  threw  the  stones  and  mortar 
right  and  left.  The  preachers  and  the  men  in  our  school 
were  all  there  and  did  the  rest.  If  the  villagers  had  fallen 
upon  me  there  would  have  been  an  even,  square  fight  with 
my  men.  They  looked  on,  expecting  me  to  fall  dead  be- 
fore their  eyes,  stricken  by  the  demon  which  they  said 
had  its  abode  in  that  shrine.  Nothing  happened  to  me. 
The  place  was  cleared,  and  we  built  our  baptistery,  in 
which  since  then  many  thousands  have  been  baptized. 

We  now  had  an  experience  which  was  early  Chris- 
tianity over  again.  A  large  group  of  men  from  Marka- 
pur,  including  those  who  had  been  in  prison,  came  to  our 


156  SOCIAL    CHRISTIANITY    IN    THE    ORIENT 

monthly  meeting  on  August  i,  1869.  Converts,  too, 
came  from  that  direction.  They  had  seen  persecution 
and  were  not  afraid.  Men  from  other  parts  of  the  field 
were  there,  the  women  with  them.  The  sense  of  Chris- 
tian fellowship  was  strong  within  them.  What  had  hap- 
pened concerned  everyone,  for  it  dealt  with  conditions 
which  all  were  facing.  In  the  name  of  Jesus  they  were 
going  to  shake  themselves  free,  not  only  from  idol-wor- 
ship, but  from  their  abject  servitude.  Religious  fervor 
with  a  touch  of  martyrdom  was  fostering  a  spirit  of 
social  revolution.  It  caught  them  all.  I  looked  on  and 
was  amazed.  They  knew  they  had  me  on  their  side. 
My  heart  went  out  to  them.  I  was  ready  to  fight  for 
them  and  with  them. 

We  dedicated  our  new  baptistery  that  Sunday  by  im- 
mersing forty-two  in  it.  In  the  evening  we  met  together 
in  the  chapel  to  commemorate  the  dying  love  of  our 
Saviour.  It  was  nine  o'clock.  We  sang  a  hymn,  but  no 
one  was  willing  to  go.  They  wanted  me  to  stay  with 
them  and  tell  them  what  they  must  do  in  the  coming  days. 
If  they  refused  to  render  service  to  the  Sudras  and  Brah- 
mans  as  formerly,  persecution  would  be  the  consequence. 
Where  should  they  yield  and  where  should  they  stand 
firmly  against  their  oppressors?  I  had  to  put  myself  in 
their  place  and  learn  intimately  the  conditions  in  which 
they  lived.  We  all  felt  the  close  tie  which  was  binding 
them  to  each  other  and  to  me.  They  begged  for  my  pres- 
ence out  in  the  direction  of  Markapur.  I  promised  to 
come  soon.  Thus  we  talked  far  into  the  night,  as  the 
Christians  in  the  early  centuries  talked  together  of  suf- 
fering to  come.  It  gave  us  a  sense  of  strength  and  power 
that  could  come  in  no  other  way. 

A  month  later  I  went  to  those  distant  taluks.  The 
people  gathered,  hundreds  at  a  time,  to  hear  me.  Many 
with  tears  in  their  eyes  told  me  they  believed  in  Jesus, 


".  .  .  .4«  idol  shrine  had 
stood  tltcrc  since  time  immemorial 
under  a  large  tamarind 
tree  in  our  garden.  .  .  .  The 
place  was  cleared,  and  we  built 
our  baptistery,  in  which  since  then 
many  thousands  hare  been  bar 
tl:cd. 


THE  BAPTISTERY  AT  ONGOLE 

"...  We  dedicated  it  by  immersing  forty-two  in  it,  August  I,  1869. 
.  .  .  They  had  seen  persecution  and  were  not  afraid.  .  .  .  We  talked 
far  into  the  night,  as  the  Christians  of  the  early  centuries  talked  together  of 
suffering  to  come.  Religious  fervor  with  a  touch  of  martyrdom  was  fostering 
a  spirit  of  social  revolution.  .  .  .  In  the  name  of  Jesus  they  were  going  to 
shake  themselves  free." 


COMING   BY    HUNDREDS  157 

but  if  their  oppressors  were  already  harsh  to  them,  what 
would  happen  if  they  openly  declared  that  they  had  be- 
gun a  new  life?  I  told  them  to  love  the  Lord  Jesus  more 
and  fear  men  less,  and  all  would  be  right.  But  my  heart 
was  heavy  as  I  looked  on,  and  found  myself  powerless 
to  help  as  I  wanted  to  help.  I  sought  an  interview  with 
the  karnam  of  Markapur.  He  said  he  knew  nothing  of 
that  imprisonment,  and  did  not  even  know  that  there 
were  Christians  in  that  region.  I  saw  through  his  lies. 
I  intimated  to  him  that  I  would  do  everything  in  my 
power  to  protect  the  Christians  from  insult  and  persecu- 
tion, and  reminded  him  that  we  were  under  English  gov- 
ernment. Such  interviews  I  often  had.  Lies  were  told 
to  me;  trickery  was  used  on  me.  I  stood  it  all,  for  I 
knew  how  much  was  at  stake  for  the  Christians.  The 
Lord  Jesus  had  to  help  me.  The  situation  required  much 
wisdom  and  patience. 

On  this  tour  I  baptized  fifty-one.  I  stayed  in  many 
villages,  and  preached  in  many  places.  I  saw  that  hun- 
dreds were  ready  so  far  as  believing  in  Jesus  the  Saviour 
was  concerned.  They  needed  Christian  teaching.  I  sent 
our  workers,  men  and  women,  all  along  the  road  I  had 
gone,  to  teach  the  people  the  leading  facts  in  the  life  of 
Christ,  the  Ten  Commandments,  and  something  of  Chris- 
tian doctrine.  All  were  anxious  to  learn.  A  few  months 
of  this  teaching  made  a  great  difference.  They  became 
established  in  their  faith. 

Meanwhile  there  was  a  steady  increase  at  Ongole. 
Early  in  November,  1869,  the  preachers  came  to  the 
Communion  service  and  brought  seventy-four  converts 
with  them.  My  diary  says,  "A  glorious  time,  indeed." 
This  was  the  largest  number  we  had  yet  reached  at  one 
time.  Two  months  later  they  brought  fifty-six.  There 
was  an  ever-increasing  movement  now  spread  over  five 
taluks.  It  was  strongest  at  the  outposts,  seventy  miles 


158  SOCIAL    CHRISTIANITY   IN    THE   ORIENT 

from  Ongole.  The  force  of  men  whom  I  had  left  out 
there  urged  me  to  come — they  were  overpowered  by 
numbers.  I  went.  I  met  with  hardships  on  the  way. 
The  Gundlacumma  River  was  in  flood,  yet  I  managed  to 
get  across  and  pressed  on.  There  were  places  where 
four  or  five  hundred  people  came  to  my  camp,  prepared 
to  stay  all  day,  drinking  in  every  word  they  heard.  When 
I  stopped  talking  the  preachers  took  up  the  story. 

In  central  places,  by  the  banks  of  rivers,  there  were 
baptismal  scenes  like  those  of  the  early  centuries  of  the 
Christian  era.  These  men  and  women  had  gone  through 
definite  Christian  experience.  I  felt  no  hesitation  in  re- 
ceiving them  into  the  church,  even  though  they  came  in 
large  numbers.  There  was  that  about  them  which  gave 
evidence  of  their  steadfastness  in  the  faith.  Three  hun- 
dred and  twenty-four  were  added  to  the  church  during 
that  tour.  Hundreds  begged  to  be  numbered  with  us; 
they  said  they  believed  in  our  Lord  Jesus,  and  I  knew 
by  the  look  in  their  faces  that  they  were  telling  me  the 
truth.  I  left  a  force  of  men  and  women  out  there  to 
teach  them,  and  told  them  that  in  due  time  they  would 
be  welcomed  as  members. 

I  went  back  to  Ongole  and  felt  that  God  was  with  us. 


XI 

A   SOCIAL   REVOLUTION 

WITH  the  tidings  about  our  Lord  Jesus  three  pre- 
cepts were  proclaimed  to  the  Madigas  of  all  that  region. 
They  contained  a  demand  for  a  rearrangement  of  every- 
thing that  constituted  their  world.  Many  listened  and 
then  put  off  hearing  more ;  they  were  afraid  of  the  conse- 
quences. Others  eagerly  took  hold.  They  grasped  the 
fact  that  this  was  the  way  for  them  to  rise  out  of  their 
abject  position.  It  found  them  ready. 

Those  three  precepts  were :  Do  not  work  on  Sunday ; 
do  not  eat  carrion ;  do  not  worship  idols.  They  all  went 
straight  against  the  cooperative  system  of  the  Indian 
village. 

In  social  ideals  nothing  could  have  been  farther  apart 
than  I,  with  my  American  respect  for  individual  rights, 
and  these  Madigas,  bound  up  in  a  system  where  the  com- 
munity was  everything  and  the  individual  counted  as 
nothing.  I  adapted  myself  to  the  people,  and  my  Ameri- 
can ways  of  thinking  became  to  a  considerable  extent 
merged  into  their  oriental  way  of  dealing  with  each  other. 
I  let  Christianity  find  a  place  for  itself  in  the  common 
village  life,  and  expand  along  the  lines  of  the  old-time 
manner  of  thought  and  life.  But  my  conciliatory  attitude 
came  to  an  abrupt  stop  where  the  question  of  individual 
rights  came  in.  There  I  was  ready  to  fight  for  the  Madi- 
gas— and  fight  I  did. 

159 


l6o  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN   THE   ORIENT 

I  did  not  realize  when  I  began  work  in  Ongole  that 
some  of  the  simple  Christian  precepts  which  I  was  giving 
out  to  the  Madiga  inquirers  were  of  a  kind  to  strike  a 
blow  at  the  ancient  system  of  the  Dravidian  village  com- 
munity. The  bulk  of  Christian  teaching  caused  no  ripple 
of  dissent.  Where  so  many  kinds  of  worship  dwell  side 
by  side,  as  in  India,  a  new  form  would  not  have  called 
forth  special  religious  intolerance.  If  the  Madigas  had 
simply  accepted  Jesus  Christ  as  their  Master,  and  had 
prayed  to  him  and  found  their  souls'  salvation  in  him, 
no  one  would  have  opposed  them  or  persecuted  them. 
Most  of  the  ethical  teaching  of  Christianity,  too,  was  ac- 
cepted without  question.  If  I  told  them  they  must  not 
steal,  they  must  give  up  their  practice  of  marrying  their 
children  in  infancy,  they  must  speak  the  truth — they  as- 
sented. Indian  reformers,  like  the  Yogi  Nasriah,  had 
thus  taught.  They  could  rearrange  their  lives  in  ac- 
cordance with  this  teaching  and  no  one  would  be  dis- 
turbed or  set  at  variance.  It  was  different  with  those 
three  precepts  :  they  were  like  a  battle-cry. 

India,  at  that  time,  was  in  a  state  of  transition.  The 
coming  of  the  white  man  was  recent,  but  the  result  was 
already  apparent.  The  old  hard  lines  of  the  communal 
life  were  being  effaced.  Men  disengaged  themselves  little 
by  little.  The  Pariahs,  standing  outside  the  lines  of  the 
caste  system,  were  accessible  to  a  disintegrating  force. 
They  had  nothing  to  lose  and  much  to  gain.  To  them  the 
Christian  appeal  contained  the  seeds  to  a  social  uprising. 
If  they  obeyed  those  three  precepts  a  labor  war  on  a 
small  scale  was  in  sight. 

Periah  and  the  men  who  soon  grouped  themselves  with 
him  as  leaders  of  their  people  were  not  in  favor  of  com- 
promise. They  knew  what  those  three  precepts  meant 
to  the  Madigas.  I  was  in  my  formative  period  and  was 
always  ready  to  listen  when  they  told  me  their  side  of 


A    SOCIAL   REVOLUTION  l6l 

any  question  that  arose.  If  they  had  advised  me  to  leave 
those  three  rules  in  the  background  and  not  bring  pres- 
sure to  bear  upon  the  converts  to  heed  them,  I  would 
probably  have  yielded  so  far  as  I  could.  It  would  have 
made  the  situation  far  easier  for  them  and  for  me.  But 
that  was  the  course  which  they  did  not  take.  Those  three 
rules  were  heralded  over  the  country.  Many  of  the  old 
men  aftenvards  said  they  heard  of  these  first,  and  the 
tidings  about  Jesus  Christ  came  to  them  afterward.  Men 
inquired  of  each  other  whether  they  intended  to  live  by 
those  three  precepts.  They  were  gaining  strength  by 
numbers. 

The  first  of  the  three  rules,  Do  not  work  on  Sunday, 
affected  their  relations  to  their  employers,  especially  their 
Sudra  masters.  It  was  considered  fortunate  for  Madiga 
families  when  they  could  serve  the  same  Sudra  families 
for  generations.  Often  the  attitude  of  the  masters  to- 
ward their  serfs  was  protective  and  kind.  But  under  the 
prevailing  system  the  reverse  was  possible.  Especially 
when  the  Madiga  went  into  debt,  the  Sudra  could  prac- 
tically own  him;  he  could  oppress  him  so  that  he  could 
hardly  call  his  life  his  own. 

When  now  the  Madigas  asked  for  one  day  in  seven,  on 
which  they  could  rest  and  meet  together  to  serve  their 
God,  it  called  for  a  readjustment  of  their  relations  to 
their  Sudra  employers.  The  Hindus  had  days  set  aside 
for  religious  observances.  Many  of  these  were  feast 
days,  in  which  the  Madigas,  in  a  humble  way,  were  al- 
lowed to  share.  Indian  forms  of  worship  came  into 
prominence  during  those  feast  days.  The  Christian  Mad- 
igas were  bound  to  withdraw  from  them.  This  might 
have  been  permitted  without  opposition.  But  they  now 
made  a  demand  for  one  day  in  seven.  There  was  friction 
in  consequence.  The  Sudras  found  themselves  com- 
pelled to  arrange  their  field  work  in  a  w*  y  to  meet  this 


1 62  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN    THE  ORIENT 

demand  of  their  old-time  serfs.  Perhaps  they  were  some- 
times irritated  unnecessarily  by  the  Christians  when  they 
insisted  they  must  obey  this  law  of  their  God.  I  might 
have  been  more  conciliatory  in  my  attitude  toward  the 
question  if  my  father's  Puritan  ideas  of  keeping  the  Sab- 
bath holy  had  not  become  so  deeply  rooted  in  my  re- 
ligious conscience.  I  tried  to  enforce  a  strict  observance 
of  the  Sabbath,  and  it  caused  trouble  everywhere. 

The  Christians  often  appealed  to  me.  Sometimes  re- 
adjustment came  as  a  matter  of  course;  sometimes  fric- 
tion ended  in  peaceful  settlement;  sometimes  the  people 
felt  that  the  Lord  Jesus  himself  must  have  helped  them. 

The  Madiga  families  in  the  Podili  taluk,  which  were 
among  the  first  to  come  to  us,  formed  an  entering  wedge 
that  helped  all  the  rest.  The  case  was  typical ;  for  these 
Madiga  families  stood  above  the  average,  and  the  Sudra 
families  to  whom  they  had  been  attached  for  generations 
included  the  munsiff,  the  head  man  of  the  whole  village 
according  to  ancient  Dravidian  order.  The  Madigas  told 
them  in  a  respectful  way  that  they  had  become  Chris- 
tians, and  that  this  meant  a  change  to  them  in  various 
ways.  They  asked  to  be  excused  from  work  on  Adiva- 
ramu — the  first  day  of  the  week.  This  refusal  to  come 
to  work  at  all  times  as  heretofore  vexed  the  Sudras. 
They  decided  to  teach  the  Christians  their  place  in  the 
community,  and  let  them  learn  the  result  of  the  stand  they 
had  taken.  It  was  then  harvest  time.  During  all  the 
previous  months  the  Madigas  had  helped  plow  and  till 
the  soil.  It  was  now  their  right,  according  to  ancient 
custom,  to  help  in  the  harvest,  and  receive  their  share  of 
grain.  The  Sudras,  to  enforce  the  lesson,  thrashed  their 
grain  on  Sundays,  and  the  Christians  thus  lost  their 
portion.  This  was  done  on  several  consecutive  Sundays. 
'The  Christians  felt  it  keenly:  it  was  an  injustice,  and  it 
meant,  to  them,  a  heavy  loss. 


A   SOCIAL  REVOLUTION  163 

Then  there  came  a  Sunday  when  the  Sudras  were 
again  out  on  the  fields  thrashing  their  grain.  The  aged 
mother  of  the  munsiff  had  stayed  at  home.  She  made  a 
fire  to  boil  a  little  milk.  While  she  was  away  for  a  few 
minutes  the  fire  touched  a  basket  of  bran  standing  near, 
which  soon  burned  lustily.  Before  the  men  could  be 
called  from  the  field  ten  of  their  houses  were  destroyed 
by  fire.  All  the  grain  that  had  been  gathered  on  those 
Sundays  to  spite  the  Christians  was  burned.  The  old 
mother  ran  away  to  hide  herself  for  half  a  day,  and 
when  she  again  appeared,  half  distracted,  she  wailed, 
"God  sent  it  as  a  punishment."  She  had  been  harsh  in 
her  attitude  to  the  Christians,  and  had  been  in  favor  of 
depriving  them  of  their  rightful  portion  of  the  harvest. 
That  she  should  have  been  the  cause  of  so  much  loss 
seemed  to  all  a  judgment  from  God.  It  ended  the  strife 
in  that  taluk.  Everywhere  the  Sudras  thought  it  best 
to  run  no  risks.  They  attended  to  small  tasks  on  Sun- 
day, and  did  their  important  work  during  the  six  days 
when  the  Christians  could  join  them.  This  incident  was 
soon  reported  in  all  the  taluks  where  the  movement 
spread,  and  it  had  an  undoubted  effect.  The  Christians 
thought  that  our  Master  Jesus  had  helped  them  in  their 
difficult  position.  I  told  them  they  were  right  about  this. 

The  second  rule,  Do  not  eat  carrion,  also  had  a  direct 
effect  upon  the  relation  of  the  Madigas  to  their  employers. 
It  concerned  the  leather  work  which  they  had  to  do  for 
the  whole  village.  There  were  sandals  to  sew,  trappings 
to  make  for  the  bullocks,  and  large  leather  buckets  to 
make  and  keep  in  repair  for  bringing  the  water  up  from 
deep  wells  to  irrigate  the  fields.  The  arrangement  was  on 
a  cooperative  basis.  The  people  who  represented  various 
trades  in  the  village  served  one  another  with  the  labor 
of  their  hands,  giving  of  their  produce  in  exchange. 
None  had  so  small  a  margin  of  profit  allotted  to  them  as 


164  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN   THE   ORIENT 

the  Madigas.  Nor  was  theirs  a  clean  poverty;  the  con- 
ditions of  their  occupation  had  lent  themselves  to  de- 
grading practices  that  made  them  abhorrent  to  other  men. 

The  Hindus  never  allowed  the  slaughter  of  cattle  for 
purposes  of  food.  When  cattle  died  of  disease,  or  old 
age,  or  starvation,  the  Madigas  were  called.  They  took 
the  animal  to  their  hamlet  In  return  for  the  hide  they 
agreed  to  furnish  leather  articles,  according  to  its  size. 
The  carcass  was  theirs  as  part  of  the  bargain.  In  that 
hot  climate  this  meant  pollution.  The  Madiga  hamlet 
was  full  of  filth.  Going  hungry  many  a  day  in  the  year 
produced  a  willingness  to  eat  what  no  one  else  would 
have  touched.  The  consequence  was  that  the  men  and 
women  had  poisoned  blood  in  their  veins.  The  children 
were  full  of  sores.  The  Madiga  hamlet  was  a  place 
which  no  one  wanted  to  enter.  It  was  always  separate 
and  a  little  to  one  side  of  the  rest  of  the  village.  Any- 
one who  wanted  anything  from  the  Madigas,  whether  the 
collector  of  taxes  or  the  man  who  called  them  to  work — 
stood  a  long  way  off  and  transacted  his  business  quickly. 

This  was  the  curse  of  their  lives.  They  knew  it.  Their 
tribal  legends  were  full  of  this  idea.  In  some  of  them 
an  Aryan  sage,  long  ago,  pronounced  a  curse  over  them ; 
in  others  the  tribal  ancestor  was  responsible  for  their 
degradation.  There  were  stories  of  a  terrible  famine 
which  came  upon  the  land  at  a  remote  time,  when  the 
Madigas  held  a  respected  place  in  the  community.  In  the 
pangs  of  starvation  they  gathered  about  a  bullock  that 
had  died,  and  ate  in  order  to  live,  and  never  after  were 
they  able  to  raise  their  heads. 

With  the  help  of  Christianity  they  now  fought  that 
curse  and  rose  above  it.  I  helped  them.  For  my  own 
sake  I  wanted  to  see  them  make  a  break  with  their  past. 
This  cause  of  their  degradation  was  intolerable  to  me. 
Sometimes  I  felt  I  must  do  something  to  preserve  my 


A   SOCIAL   REVOLUTION  165 

own  status.  White  men  at  that  time  were  few  in  that 
part  of  India.  The  caste  people  could  not  understand  my 
motives;  they  did  not  see  why  I  should  identify  myself 
with  the  lowest  portion  of  their  social  life.  Groups  of 
Sudras  used  to  come  to  my  tent  when  I  was  out  on  tour — 
fine  looking  people.  I  spread  mats  for  them  and  asked 
them  to  stay.  I  wanted  them  to  feel  that  I  was  as  one  of 
them.  I  said  that  in  my  own  country  my  father  was  a 
wealthy  landowner  like  themselves,  that  he  had  a  farm 
of  a  thousand  acres,  more  fertile  than  any  they  had  ever 
seen,  that  he  had  ten  horses  in  the  stable  and  cattle  in  the 
pasture,  and  that  I  as  his  son  had  been  given  a  portion 
of  all  this.  They  wondered  about  it.  It  did  them  good. 
It  helped  the  Madigas.  The  fact  was  repeated  wherever 
the  movement  spread  that  "the  Ongole  Dhora"  was  not  a 
man  without  caste  in  his  own  country.  Lack  of  food  and 
clothes  did  not  bring  him  to  India.  Moreover,  he  was  a 
man  who  acted  as  if  he  could  earn  anywhere  enough  for 
himself  and  his  wife  and  children.  Then  why  had  he 
come  to  India,  bringing  this  religion  to  the  Madigas? 

That  rule  against  eating  carrion  was  probably  never 
before  framed  and  brought  into  force  in  all  the  propa- 
ganda of  Christianity.  We  made  it  a  stringent  rule  in 
the  beginning.  During  all  the  first  ten  or  twenty  years 
candidates  for  baptism  were  asked  whether  they  agreed 
to  abstain  from  this  practice.  Afterward  the  younger 
generation  would  have  felt  insulted  had  we  asked  them. 
In  the  old  days  it  meant  a  good  deal.  A  lapse  in  this  re- 
spect indicated  that  there  was  a  reversion  to  the  old  man- 
ner of  life.  When  the  preachers  reported  that  a  village 
of  Christians  was  reverting  to  heathenism  they  always 
added :  "They  are  eating  carrion  again."  It  was  not 
because  they  loved  their  degradation.  They  had  been 
without  work  and  had  gone  hungry.  Everything  was 
dragging  them  down. 


1 66  SOCIAL    CHRISTIANITY   IN    THE    ORIENT 

I  sometimes  stood  before  the  men  and  women  of  a 
village  where  they  were  weak  Christians,  and  felt  a  sense 
of  personal  shame.  They  admitted  their  fault;  they  still 
wanted  to  serve  the  Lord  Jesus;  they  lacked  the  will  to 
rise  to  a  purposeful  life.  My  last  appeal  to  them  some- 
times was  on  my  own  behalf.  I  said  to  them:  "Oh, 
men !  I  am  not  ashamed  to  be  the  Guru  of  poor  people, 
for  Christ  said  he  had  come  that  the  sick  might  be  healed 
and  the  poor  have  the  gospel  preached  to  them.  But  when 
I  see  weak  Christians  before  me  then  I  have  a  pain  in  my 
mind,  and  I  wonder  why  God  has  chosen  me  to  be  the 
Guru  of  such  dirty  people."  This  appeal  often  went 
home  to  their  hearts.  A  look  of  shame  passed  over  their 
faces.  The  women  involuntarily  stroked  down  their  un- 
kempt hair ;  the  men  looked  at  each  other. 

There  was  unrest  everywhere.  The  Sudras  had  to 
learn  to  make  with  the  Madigas  bargains  that  concerned 
only  the  hide.  The  traders  in  hides  had  to  settle  on  new 
rates  when  the  carcass  could  not  be  thrown  in  as  part  of 
the  sale.  But  the  sharpest  clash  was  in  the  family 
circle.  When  one  sat  apart  at  meal-time  because  carrion 
was  boiling  in  the  pot,  it  was  a  change  that  affected  the 
solidarity  of  the  family.  The  women  especially  resented 
this.  "Do  you  see  him?  He  will  not  eat.  He,  too,  is 
going  to  that  Ongole  religion!"  Where  the  Christians 
were  in  the  majority  in  a  family,  they  sat  on  one  side  and 
ate  clean  food.  They  refused  to  allow  the  others  to 
touch  their  cooking  utensils  or  earthen  plates.  They 
said,  "We  turn  sick  when  you  touch  our  food.  You  are 
unclean."  Instead  of  being  ostracized,  they  were  the  ones 
who  ostracized  the  others.  Thus  they  fought  the  curse. 
Public  opinion  was  formed.  The  women  took  it  up. 
Everybody  began  to  feel  forced  into  line.  Clean  family 
life  and  clean  hamlets  were  the  result. 

It  would  seem  that  the  third  precept,  Do  not  worship 


A   SOCIAL   REVOLUTION  167 

idols,  was  wholly  directed  to  the  religious  conscience  of 
the  individual,  and  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  communal 
life.  This  was  not  the  case.  For  some  cause,  which  lies 
in  a  remote  past,  the  Madigas  performed  important  func- 
tions whenever  a  festival  was  arranged  for  idol-worship. 
It  was  the  duty  of  the  Madiga  headmen  to  furnish  men 
from  their  hamlet  for  this,  as  many  as  were  required.  In 
return  they  received  payment  in  kind,  in  accordance  with 
the  cooperative  system  of  the  village.  The  beating  of  the 
drums  was  the  business  of  the  Madigas;  no  one  else 
could  touch  them.  There  was  a  reason  for  the  impor- 
tance given  to  the  drums.  It  was  thought  that  invisible 
spirits,  which  hover  close  to  the  earth,  would  perceive 
the  peculiar  vibrating  din  of  the  drums  and  could  thereby 
bring  themselves  in  touch  with  the  worshipers.  They 
would  be  appeased,  and  would  refrain  from  sending  evil 
upon  the  community. 

Then  there  was  the  dance  of  possession — the  sivam — 
which  only  the  Madigas  could  perform.  When,  during 
the  festival,  the  time  came  to  take  the  idol  in  procession 
through  the  main  street  of  the  village  it  was  a  leading 
feature  to  have  Madigas  dance  before  it.  In  the  various 
forms  of  nature-worship,  as  practiced  in  the  Indian  vil- 
lage, the  sivam  had  a  place.  The  men  elected  for  it  were 
given  drugs  that  partly  stupefied,  but  gave  abnormal  en- 
durance in  keeping  up  a  swaying  motion  by  the  hour. 
Sometimes  they  uttered  words  and  groans,  and  showed 
symptoms  of  possession,  and  then  it  was  thought  the 
invisible  being  represented  by  the  idol  was  finding  expres- 
sion through  them.  This  was  considered  satisfactory. 

The  intention  back  of  it  all  was  that  the  Madigas 
should  identify  themselves  with  the  fiends  and  demons 
of  the  land,  and  keep  them  in  check.  Then  there  would 
be  no  smallpox,  no  cholera,  no  cattle  disease,  and  no 
famine.  This  had  been  considered  their  task  for  many 


1 68  SOCIAL    CHRISTIANITY   IN    THE   ORIENT 

centuries.  When  the  Dravidian  invaders  came  upon 
them,  in  the  remote  past,  they  probably  found  them  per- 
forming these  rites.  They  allowed  them  to  continue, 
for  they  themselves  were  demon-worshipers.  Nor  was 
there  any  change  when  the  Indo-Aryans  came  into  the 
land.  They  had  their  high  conceptions  of  religion  and 
their  sacred  books.  But  as  they  wanted  to  be  the  teachers 
and  priests  of  the  Dravidians,  they  found  it  necessary  to 
adapt  themselves  more  or  less  to  their  religious  ideas. 
The  result  was  a  mixture  between  Aryan  and  non- Aryan 
cults.  The  lowest  of  all  the  cults  were  those  which  the 
Madigas  performed  with  the  shedding  of  blood  and  hide- 
ous rites.  The  Brahmans  and  the  Sudras  had  combined 
in  holding  the  Madigas  to  their  task.  As  the  belief  in 
demons  was  general,  no  one  was  willing  to  release  the 
Madigas  from  their  intermediatory  position. 

It  now  happened  in  the  spread  of  Christianity  that 
whole  villages  of  Christians  refused  in  a  body  to  perform 
their  old-time  duties  at  some  festival.  They  said :  "We 
cannot  beat  those  drums.  We  cannot  have  anything  to 
do  with  idol-worship.  We  are  Christians."  There  was 
often  risk  that  this  announcement  would  call  forth  vio- 
lence. It  took  courage  to  make  it.  The  refusal  was  not 
viewed  as  a  religious  change :  it  was  considered  a  labor 
strike;  a  species  of  rebellion  against  the  village  com- 
munity. The  clash  was  not  only  with  the  Sudras ;  it  was 
also  with  the  Brahmans.  The  element  of  harshness  came 
in.  The  Madigas  were  in  the  grip  of  their  oppressors, 
and  there  was  often  more  suffering  than  I  could  face  on 
behalf  of  the  people  without  taking  every  step  possible 
to  defend  them. 

Fortunately  we  were  under  British  rule.  The  procla- 
mation of  religious  liberty  had  been  issued  to  all  British 
subjects  in  India  when  the  government  was  transferred 
to  the  Crown  in  1858.  This  was  good;  we  could  ask  for 


A   SOCIAL   REVOLUTION  169 

nothing  more.  But  how  to  get  the  application  made  to 
the  Pariah  class — that  was  another  question.  Intolerant 
native  officials  of  every  grade  had  to  wheel  into  line  and 
adapt  themselves  to  the  white  man's  views  of  liberty  and 
toleration.  It  took  them  many  years.  We  missionaries 
there  did  a  service.  Close  to  the  people,  we  taught  many 
a  village  official  that  he  must  obey  not  only  the  letter  of 
the  law  given  by  the  Christian  rulers  of  the  land;  the 
spirit  of  it  must  be  obeyed.  A  great  change  has  come  in 
the  course  of  the  years.  Enlightened  Hindus  are  lending 
a  hand  to  uplift  this  submerged  tenth  of  their  population. 
There  was  nothing  of  this  kind  in  the  days  when  I  began 
work. 

The  Lord  Jesus  must  have  given  me  my  task,  for  to 
him  the  common  people  came  gladly.  It  was  a  situation 
like  that  of  New  Testament  times.  The  religious  hier- 
archy of  that  region  had  refused  me.  I  found  my  place 
in  the  English  system  of  authority  and  order,  but  I  went 
a  step  farther.  A  typical  American  of  the  most  demo- 
cratic type,  I  had  as  a  constituency  a  democratic  religious 
body  to  support  me.  Dr.  Warren  was  strong  in  holding 
me  to  the  democratic  principles  of  our  denomination. 
No  wonder  that  the  outlaws — the  Pariahs — came.  They 
were  the  only  group  of  people  who  were  available  for  an 
experiment  in  reducing  democratic  religious  principles 
to  practice.  When  now  they  tried  to  effect  their  release 
from  the  social  system,  which  was  hardened  by  the  sta- 
bility of  many  centuries,  there  was  opposition.  The  Lord 
Jesus  helped  us  through  it  all.  We  stood  our  ground, 
and  were  not  defeated. 

In  all  the  oppression  under  which  our  Christians  suf- 
fered there  were  seldom  definite  acts  that  were  a  direct 
violation  of  law.  Where  there  were  such  acts  I  engaged 
legal  advice  and  helped  the  Christians  fight  out  the  case. 
I  always  ran  the  risk  of  failure.  False  witnesses  against 


I7O  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN   THE   ORIENT 

them  could  be  bought  with  a  few  coins.  The  native  offi- 
cials who  generally  tried  such  a  case  were  full  of  re- 
sources to  shield  those  of  their  own  caste.  Nevertheless, 
the  caste  people  knew  that  I  was  always  on  the  alert, 
ready  to  bring  the  force  of  the  law  upon  them  if  I  could. 
That  in  itself  acted  as  a  deterrent. 

One  case  of  persecution  in  the  Kanigiri  taluk  was 
taken  into  court  by  the  Christians.  It  had  had  the  usual 
preliminaries :  cattle  disease  was  prevalent,  the  wells 
were  running  dry,  there  was  fear  of  cholera.  The  caste 
people  thought  this  must  all  be  due  to  the  fact  that  the 
Madigas  had  refused  to  do  their  share  in  appeasing  in- 
visible forces.  There  was  a  temple  in  the  taluk  to  An- 
kalama,  like  Ellama,  one  of  the  ten  great  Saktis  in  India, 
all  a  form  of  Parvati,  the  consort  of  Siva — the  Destroyer. 
Parvati  is  thought  to  go  forth  at  times  for  carnage.  The 
terrible  in  nature  is  ascribed  to  Siva  and  to  her.  She 
delights  in  destroying  as  well  as  in  recreating.  All  fear 
the  power  of  the  Sakti,  no  matter  what  the  caste,  or  what 
otherwise  the  mode  of  worship  may  be.  The  priests  of 
this  temple  of  Ankalama,  backed  by  the  demand  of  the 
people,  made  preparations  for  a  feast  of  unusual  pomp. 
A  leading  feature  of  it  was  to  be  the  return  into  their  old- 
time  service  of  the  Madigas  who  had  become  Christians. 
They  were  to  beat  the  drums. 

Crowds  of  worshipers  began  to  gather.  The  festival 
was  in  course  of  preparation.  The  village  karnam  sent 
a  messenger  to  bring  the  Christians.  They  replied  that 
their  religion  forbade  them  to  have  anything  to  do  with 
idol-worship.  Five  village  constables  were  then  sent  to 
fetch  five  of  the  leading  Christians.  They  were  brought 
by  force.  Water  was  poured  over  their  heads  until  it 
was  thought  the  antagonism  of  their  Christian  religion 
had  been  washed  away.  Their  heads  were  shaved — a  top- 
knot was  left.  Their  foreheads  were  marked  with  the 


A   SOCIAL   REVOLUTION 

sign  of  Siva-worship.  The  drums  were  forced  into  their 
hands.  For  three  days  they  had  to  endure  the  shame  of 
their  position.  Crowds  of  people  passed  who  knew  that 
they  were  Christians. 

The  five  men  had  gathered  up  the  hair  as  it  fell  under 
the  razor,  and  tied  it  into  their  cloth.  They  hastened  to 
Ongole  and  told  me  their  story,  showing  the  hair  in  their 
cloth,  taking  off  their  turbans  to  show  the  mutilation.  I 
saw  that  there  was  a  point  here  that  lent  itself  to  legal 
procedure.  I  helped  the  men  file  a  case  in  court.  The 
English  magistrate  of  Ongole  tried  it.  He  asked  the  five 
Christians  whether  they  considered  themselves  to  have 
been  insulted.  They  said,  "It  was  as  if  our  throats  had 
been  cut,  our  shame  was  so  great."  It  was  a  clear  case 
of  insult  to  the  religious  conviction  of  British  subjects. 
The  maximum  punishment  was  five  years.  The  karnam 
was  a  Brahman.  He  had  to  pay  a  fine  of  thirty  rupees 
and  was  imprisoned  for  three  months.  This  meant  pol- 
lution of  the  worst  kind  for  him  and  would  formerly 
have  been  thought  impossible.  The  case  helped  the 
cause  of  the  Madigas  greatly.  It  proved  beyond  a  doubt 
that  the  outcastes  had  the  same  rights  before  British  law 
as  the  Brahmans. 

There  were  many  ways  of  evading  the  law.  There  was 
scope  for  petty  persecutions  which  nothing  could  stop. 
All  through  the  years,  here  and  there  over  the  field,  trou- 
ble arose.  The  cause  was  always  that  the  Madigas  were 
rising  out  of  their  abject  position.  When  they  had  a 
school  in  their  hamlet  and  began  to  be  self-respecting  and 
self-reliant,  the  caste  people  thought  it  time  to  teach  their 
former  serfs  their  place  in  the  community.  The  co- 
operative system  of  the  village  was  turned  against  them. 
The  village  washermen  were  told  not  to  wash  for  them ; 
the  potter  was  told  not  to  sell  pots  to  them;  their  cattle 
were  driven  from  the  common  grazing  ground j  the  Su- 


172  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY  IN   THE   ORIENT 

dras  combined  in  a  refusal  to  give  them  the  usual  work 
of  sewing  sandals  and  harness ;  at  harvest  time  they  were 
not  allowed  to  help  and  lost  their  portion  of  grain.  They 
were  boycotted  on  every  hand.  The  karnam  called  Madi- 
gas  from  elsewhere  to  do  the  scavenger  work  of  the  vil- 
lage, and  the  Christians  had  no  alternative  but  to  go  to 
distant  villages  to  find  a  little  work  and  earn  a  scant 
pittance.  They  often  came  close  to  the  margin  of  starva- 
tion. 

This  program  was  followed  in  many  a  village.  The 
people  appealed  to  their  preachers;  the  preachers  ap- 
pealed to  me.  Those  oppressors  always  knew  that  they 
might  in  some  way  have  to  reckon  with  me.  It  is  prob- 
ably true,  as  a  group  of  the  old  Ongole  preachers  said 
when  they  were  talking  of  those  days:  "If  the  fear  of 
our  Clough  Dhora  had  not  been  in  the  minds  of  all  the 
munsiffs  and  karnams  of  that  region  we  could  not  have 
stood."  Preacher  Kola  Peddiah  had  an  experience  of 
this  kind.  He  was  a  man  who  more  than  once  suffered 
tribulation  with  his  flock.  Even  in  his  old  age  he  hastened 
to  a  temple  festival  to  reason  with  those  who  were  forc- 
ing the  drums  into  the  hands  of  his  people.  They  fell 
upon  him  and  beat  him,  and  the  old  man's  coat,  stained 
with  his  blood,  was  produced  in  court  as  evidence.  His 
eyes  radiant  with  gratitude,  Peddiah  used  to  tell  how  in 
the  early  days,  before  a  crowd  of  oppressors  I  had  called 
him  my  tamurdu — my  younger  brother. 

There  had  been  much  suffering,  for  a  village  of  Chris- 
tians in  the  Kanigiri  taluk  had  been  brought  to  the  limit 
of  endurance.  I  went  there  on  tour.  It  was  known  that 
my  tent  had  come  and  that  I  would  arrive  in  the  morn- 
ing. Crowds  of  people  had  gathered  from  all  the  neigh- 
boring villages  to  see  what  I  would  do  about  this  perse- 
cution. If  I  failed  to  bring  about  a  change  there  were 
other  karnams  everywhere  who  would  try  similar  meas- 


A   SOCIAL   REVOLUTION  173 

ures  with  the  Christians.  I  went  through  the  main  street 
of  the  village.  On  one  side  among  the  crowd,  his  arms 
deferentially  folded  over  his  chest,  stood  the  karnam,  a 
Brahman.  Peddiah,  with  the  Christians,  walking  close 
by,  pointed  him  out  to  me:  "That  is  the  man."  The 
karnam  made  many  and  deep  salaams.  I  did  not  notice 
him.  Already  anxious,  he  now  became  full  of  fear.  He 
had  boycotted  the  Christians ;  I  now  boycotted  him.  He 
began  to  make  excuses;  I  did  not  look  his  way.  Insist- 
ing on  being  heard,  he  said,  "I  did  not  do  that  work. 
There  are  no  witnesses." 

Then  I  turned  my  horse  on  to  him,  and  he  had  to  get 
out  of  the  road  for  my  horse,  as  the  Christians  had  many 
a  time  run  away  before  him.  I  said  :  "You  say  there  are 
no  witnesses.  The  Christians  have  told  me  what  you 
did.  The  preacher,  who  is  like  my  tamurdu,  has  told 
me.  Would  my  younger  brother  lie  to  me?  You  are 
the  liar,  not  the  preacher."  I  called  him  some  hard 
names.  I  was  weighed  down  by  the  persecutions  the 
Christians  were  suffering,  and  this  man  got  the  force  of 
my  pent-up  indignation.  He  began  to  make  promises 
that  he  would  be  kind  to  the  Christians.  I  made  him 
repeat  those  promises  before  all  that  crowd  as  he  stood 
there  with  his  arms  still  folded  over  his  chest.  I  declared 
that  I  was  "afraid  of  his  lying  words."  I  told  him  and 
all  who  pressed  close  in  order  to  hear  every  word :  "Be- 
ware how  you  persecute  these  Christians.  Their  God  is 
not  like  your  idols  who  hear  not  and  see  not.  When 
these  poor  men  pray,  God  is  not  far  off." 

It  ended  that  persecution.  All  that  was  said  and  done 
during  those  few  minutes  of  public  encounter  was  re- 
peated hundreds  of  times  over  the  field.  It  was  a  clear 
case  of  intimidation  on  my  part.  But  it  did  the  work. 
My  horse  helped.  It  was  a  fine  white  animal,  full  of 
spirit — few  dared  to  mount  it.  The  preachers  were  proud 


174  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN    THE   ORIENT 

of  it.  I  realized  this  when,  the  mission  in  debt,  I  had  to 
cut  down  their  small  income  and,  to  help  them,  offered  to 
sell  the  horse  and  divide  the  money  among  them.  They 
said:  "Never  mind  about  us.  Keep  the  horse.  What 
should  we  say  to  all  who  stand  ready  to  persecute  us  if 
they  ask  us  whether  our  Dhora  no  longer  rides  a  horse  ?" 
They  were  right.  We  needed  everything  that  could  help 
us  hold  our  place. 

Sometimes  I  faced  village  officials  and  found  that 
nothing  could  make  them  change  their  course.  I  could 
generally  count  on  a  degree  of  kind-heartedness  with  the 
munsiff ,  always  a  Sudra,  remnant  of  the  old  paternal 
Dravidian  village  rule.  The  karnam  was  the  one  whom 
the  people  feared  most.  He  was  always  a  Brahman, 
kept  accounts  and  collected  taxes.  Proud  of  his  race,  his 
attitude  toward  the  people  was  often  very  harsh.  The 
old  preachers  say  I  once  thrashed  a  karnam  in  the  Kani- 
giri  taluk  because  he  treated  with  insolence  my  request 
for  leniency  toward  the  Christians.  I  had  no  right  to  do 
this,  and  he  might  have  had  me  in  court.  But  he  dared 
not ;  for  I,  in  turn,  might  have  been  able  to  prove  a  case 
against  him  for  violating  the  law  of  religious  toleration. 
I  might  have  shown  him  unfit  for  his  office.  He  kept 
still,  and  that  thrashing  worked  good  for  the  Christians. 

Standing  between  the  people  and  their  oppressors,  I 
incurred  every  kind  of  personal  risk.  There  was  a  night 
out  in  camp  when  I  nearly  died  of  poison.  I  had  had  a 
somewhat  stormy  interview  with  the  munsiff  of  the  place, 
during  which  I  had  insisted  that  he  must  stop  his  perse- 
cutions. Later  I  drank  a  cup  of  tea ;  the  milk  had  arsenic 
in  it.  It  was  an  overdose  and  that  saved  me.  After  that 
my  servants  grew  vigilant.  Our  faithful  cook,  Cartiah, 
watched  over  me,  especially  on  tour,  and  would  not  let 
me  eat  or  drink  anything  unless  he  knew  exactly  where 
it  had  been  obtained.  He  saved  my  life  many  a  time  by 


A   SOCIAL   REVOLUTION  175 

his  carefulness.  Fruit  was  brought  to  me  poisoned.  Once 
I  stood  on  my  veranda,  interviewing  people  who  had 
come  from  far  and  near.  A  munsiff  with  four  Sudras 
approached  me  with  smiling  faces,  offering  me  a  gift  of 
fruit  on  a  brass  tray.  I  had  just  helped  the  Christians 
in  their  village  win  a  case  against  them,  and  they  were 
to  pay  sixty  rupees  fine.  If  I  should  suddenly  die  they 
could  keep  their  money.  I  saw  by  the  looks  of  all  who 
stood  there  that  they  had  misgivings  about  the  fruit.  I 
said,  "This  is  bitter  stuff.  You  persecuted  our  Chris- 
tians. I  do  not  want  your  gifts."  I  took  the  fruit,  large 
and  small,  piece  by  piece,  from  the  tray,  and  hurled 
it  among  the  trees  in  front  of  the  veranda,  so  that  the  bits 
flew  in  every  direction. 

Once  I  was  mauled  with  bamboo  sticks.  I  had  bought 
ground  adjoining  our  compound  on  which  to  build  houses 
for  our  helpers.  To  have  Christians  living  so  close  to  them 
angered  the  people  of  the  neighborhood.  I  went  to  direct 
some  coolies  in  clearing  the  ground  and  those  people  fell 
upon  me  with  long  bamboos.  My  umbrella  was  smashed 
out  of  my  hands — my  pith  hat  protected  my  head  a  little. 
The  cook  was  the  first  to  hear  the  noise.  He  came  run- 
ning and  dragged  away  the  strongest  of  those  men.  Then 
my  future  staff  of  preachers,  all  still  in  school,  heard 
some  one  calling,  "They  are  beating  our  Dhora!"  Like  a 
whirlwind  they  came.  They  fell  upon  the  chief  offender, 
and  were  so  close  to  murdering  him  that  I  forgot  my 
bruises  and  pulled  my  men  away.  Preacher  Abraham, 
when  he  was  an  old  man,  in  telling  about  it  said,  "We 
dragged  that  man  along  the  ground  by  his  juttn,  and  his 
hair  stayed  in  our  hands."  With  exulting  eyes  he  looked 
into  his  hands,  as  if  he  still  had  the  hair  in  them.  The 
police  inspector  insisted  I  must  take  the  case  to  court.  A 
native  official  tried  it.  Fines  and  imprisonment  were 
light.  But  a  series  of  reverses  now  fell  upon  that  fam- 


176  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN    THE   ORIENT 

ily ;  they  lost  cattle  and  crops ;  the  men  of  the  family  died. 
Rumor  greatly  exaggerated  it,  but  a  superstitious  fear 
fell  upon  the  people  in  and  beyond  Ongole.  They  said : 
"It  is  not  well  to  touch  that  Dhora.  He  has  a  powerful 
God,  who  smites  those  who  injure  him."  The  sequel 
was,  that  during  the  famine,  when  standing  on  my 
veranda  giving  help  to  the  crowds  who  came,  I  saw  one 
of  those  men  waiting  with  the  rest.  I  said,  "Are  you  not 
the  man  who  beat  me  ?"  He  said  he  was.  Without  an- 
other word  I  put  rupees  into  his  hands,  and  again  when- 
ever he  came.  The  piece  of  land  on  account  of  which  I 
suffered  I  later  made  over  to  our  society.  In  doing  so 
I  did  not  speak  of  the  mauling.  I  threw  that  in  for 
nothing. 

As  I  look  back  upon  the  attempts  made  to  take  my  life 
I  wonder  that  I  escaped.  I  was  well-nigh  fearless.  If 
the  preachers  had  ever  seen  me  in  hiding,  or  afraid,  their 
own  courage  would  have  suffered  a  shock.  They  watched 
over  me  and  practically  formed  a  body-guard  around  me. 
I  sometimes  told  them  that  a  man  of  God  in  my  own 
country  had  spoken  a  word  to  me,  that  I  would  be  "in- 
vulnerable until  my  work  was  done,"  and  that  I  believed 
it  to  be  a  true  word. 

Our  social  revolution  was  not  all  a  contest.  I  had 
friends  among  the  village  officials  over  all  that  region. 
Those  who  were  kind  to  the  Christians  could  count  on  me 
as  their  friend.  When  they  came  to  Ongole  on  business 
they  always  called  on  me.  I  talked  with  them  and  showed 
an  interest  in  their  welfare.  Sometimes  it  came  my  way 
to  do  them  a  good  turn — to  speak  a  word  on  their  behalf 
to  some  higher  official.  Out  on  tour  they  came  to  my 
tent.  I  treated  them  with  much  courtesy,  asking  them  to 
sit  down  on  my  camp  chairs  and  to  be  present  when  I 
preached  to  the  gathering  crowds.  During  my  sermon  I 
occasionally  deferred  to  them  and  asked  them  whether  I 


A    SOCIAL    REVOLUTION 

was  not  telling  the  people  the  truth.  It  was  a  part  of  my 
missionary  work  which  I  enjoyed.  There  was  a  touch  of 
political  activity  in  it.  The  English  officials  reckoned 
with  this.  It  came  to  my  ears  that  they  said  when  one 
of  them  was  transferred  elsewhere  and  there  was  vacancy 
for  a  time  :  "No  matter,  Clough  is  up  there.  Let  him  see 
to  law  and  order."  My  hopes  for  a  career  as  lawyer  and 
politician  were  given  up  when  I  became  a  missionary, 
yet  for  the  sake  of  the  people  that  career  was  neverthe- 
less sustained,  brought  into  service  for  the  sake  of  my 
Master,  Jesus  Christ. 

There  was  one  direction  where  I  was  almost  power- 
less in  the  social  upheaval  of  those  early  days.  When  it 
touched  the  family  circle  I  could  do  nothing.  Often  men 
and  women  who  believed  in  Jesus  found  all  the  ties  that 
bound  them  to  their  kindred  straining  and  breaking.  The 
Madigas  never  employed  the  methods  of  the  caste  people ; 
they  never  let  a  man  quietly  disappear  off  the  face  of  the 
earth  because  he  no  longer  belonged  to  them.  But  the 
course  which  they  did  take  was  often  very  hard  to  bear. 
A  family  could  quietly  see  one  of  its  members  change 
from  one  Indian  cult  to  another,  and  sit  at  the  feet  of  one 
Guru  after  another.  It  made  no  difference  because  the 
relations  of  the  family  to  the  rest  of  the  village  remained 
unchanged.  Not  so  when  anyone  became  a  Christian. 

Often  it  was  the  strongest  man  in  the  family  who  first 
made  the  decision  that  he  must  believe  in  Jesus.  Then 
the  rest  fell  into  fear:  the  people  of  their  hamlet  would 
hate  them ;  the  Sudras  would  refuse  them  work ;  the  vil- 
lage gods  would  begin  to  afflict,  and  then  the  Brahmans 
would  let  them  feel  their  power.  The  women  had  much 
to  say  in  tnis.  They  asked  the  question  that  concerned 
them  all:  "Where  will  we  find  enough  to  eat?"  Men 
came  to  me,  sore  at  heart,  tried  to  the  utmost.  They 
asked  for  baptism.  Since  they  were  cast  out  by  their 


178  SOCIAL    CHRISTIANITY   IN   THE   ORIENT 

families  they  wanted  at  least  to  belong  to  us.  Generally 
I  advised  them  to  wait,  to  endure  with  steadfastness,  as 
that  would  most  surely  win  their  families. 

There  was  Munangi  Anumiah,  afterwards  the  leading 
preacher  in  the  Cumbum  taluk.  He  heard  a  rumor  that 
the  Ongole  Dhora  had  a  powerful  God,  and  that  he  was 
urging  many  Madigas  to  believe  in  him,  so  that  some  day, 
when  he  had  them  all  kneeling  in  a  line,  he  could  take  a 
wire  like  those  which  the  English  had  fastened  to  the 
telegraph  poles,  and  cut  their  necks  with  it,  as  a  sacrifice 
to  his  God.  Anumiah  believed  this  rumor  and  was  afraid. 
Then  one  day  Nimmiah,  one  of  the  earliest  converts,  came 
that  way  and  told  him  the  Ten  Commandments.  He  said, 
"Would  they  teach  us  words  like  these,  which  parents 
teach  their  children,  if  they  intended  to  cut  off  our 
necks?"  Anumiah  agreed  that  there  was  no  reason  for 
fear,  and  befriended  Nimmiah  when  the  rest  were  mak- 
ing fun  of  him.  He  heard  of  those  three  precepts,  and 
they  sank  into  his  mind.  There  came  a  day  when  he  did 
not  want  to  eat  carrion  any  more.  Then  the  fight  began. 
The  women  resented  his  aloofness ;  they  turned  his  wife 
against  him.  But  he  managed  to  get  enough  to  eat  some- 
how and  kept  his  peace. 

That  precept  about  the  Sabbath  troubled  him.  When 
the  Sudra  master  called  to  work  on  Sunday  he  went,  and 
while  working  "prayed  quietly  in  his  mind."  One  Sun- 
day the  whole  family  was  ordered  to  come  for  a  special 
job.  Anumiah  felt  he  had  done  this  long  enough  and  re- 
fused to  obey.  This  was  the  signal.  The  whole  family 
risked  the  displeasure  of  their  Sudra  master  and  stayed 
at  home  to  fight  it  out.  There  was  a  big  family  quarrel, 
and  it  continued  for  months.  Bezwada  Paul  came  that 
way,  but  he  dared  not  go  near.  The  father  and  two 
brothers  were  there  and  all  the  women.  Then  Periah  and 
Nagama  came.  They  had  the  right  of  way  everywhere. 


A   SOCIAL   REVOLUTION  1/9 

Periah  was  distantly  related  to  the  family,  but  aside  from 
this  no  one  dared  treat  him  with  anything  but  respect. 
The  house  was  swept,  and  he  was  made  welcome.  When 
he  left  he  said  to  Anumiah,  "Continue  to  pray;  your  fam- 
ily will  come."  After  a  time  he  broke  away  and  went 
to  live  with  the  Christians.  Then  the  family  tie  asserted 
itself.  They  begged  him  to  come  back.  The  men  of  his 
household  had  their  jnttus  cut  off.  Several  were  bap- 
tized. Anumiah  came  to  our  school.  His  mother  found 
it  hard  to  give  him  up.  She  walked  to  Ongole  with  him. 
She  stood  and  looked  in,  as  he  began  to  learn  his  alpha- 
bet, and  then  she  turned  to  walk  back  home,  a  weary 
seventy  miles,  without  him.  He  said  of  this  when  an 
old  man,  "My  mother  cried  when  she  left  me,  not  be- 
cause she  was  sorrowful,  but  because  she  loved  me  so 
much." 

The  women,  too,  suffered  and  stood  firm.  There  was 
one,  Nagama,  on  Periah's  field,  who  had  a  full  measure 
of  tribulation.  Her  husband  raised  no  objections  when 
she  became  a  Christian.  Then  her  eldest  son,  a  lad  of 
sixteen,  died.  It  was  said  the  village  gods  had  done  this, 
and  her  husband  began  to  illtreat  her  and  to  insist  that 
she  must  give  up  the  new  religion.  Then  another  child 
died.  He  tied  her  to  a  tree  and  beat  her ;  he  dragged  her 
about  by  the  hair  till  she  had  little  left.  Through  it  all, 
her  faith  in  God  and  his  mercy  did  not  fail  her.  The  hus- 
band left  her  and  went  away  with  another  woman.  Pe- 
riah brought  her  to  Ongole,  leading  a  bright  little  boy  by 
the  hand,  her  only  remaining  child.  He  said,  "This 
woman  has  been  an  honor  to  me  and  to  my  Master, 
Jesus  Christ,  over  all  my  field.  Train  her  as  a  Bible 
woman."  She  became  one  of  the  best  in  the  mission. 

The  more  united  the  family,  the  harder  the  struggle. 
When  in  addition  the  family  had  standing,  and  a  good 
income  through  some  form  of  priesthood,  the  blow 


l8o  SOCIAL    CHRISTIANITY   IN   THE  ORIENT 

fell  hard.  The  question  of  caste  did  not  come  into 
consideration  with  the  Madigas,  or  Malas ;  for  they  had 
none  to  lose.  Nevertheless,  the  future  of  the  whole  fam- 
ily was  made  uncertain,  and  the  members  rebelled.  The 
hardest  case  of  the  kind  on  the  Ongole  field  was  that  of 
the  Gumbadi  family.  There  were  four  brothers,  all  Mala 
priests,  belonging  to  the  Ramanuja  sect.  Oogriah,  the 
best  of  the  four,  made  the  break.  He  could  read,  and 
wherever  he  came  upon  the  tracts  which  Obulu  sold  in 
that  region  he  told  the  people  they  were  bad  books,  and 
with  their  permission  tore  them  up  publicly  in  the  bazaar. 
But  he  read  them  first.  He  was  wide  awake  in  every 
direction,  ready  to  learn  what  came  his  way.  He  had 
for  a  time  practiced  Raja  Yoga,  and  then  had  joined 
in  a  secret  cult  of  nature  worship.  None  of  these  changes 
had  affected  him  as  a  priest  of  Vishnu.  Not  so  with 
Christianity;  it  had  a  social  aspect.  He  met  Obulu  one 
day,  and  asked  him  many  questions.  Obulu  was  not  the 
man  to  argue  with  Oogriah,  who  had  passed  from  one 
Indian  cult  to  another.  In  his  simple-minded  way  he 
told  Oogriah  about  Jesus  Christ  as  a  living  reality.  It 
carried  conviction.  Upheaval  now  came  into  Oogriah's 
life. 

One  morning,  after  spending  the  night  in  acting,  with 
his  three  brothers,  a  drama  having  the  main  episodes  in 
the  life  of  Krishna  for  its  subject,  he  found  that  the  crisis 
had  come.  It  was  impossible  for  him  to  continue.  He 
sat  down  under  a  tree  and  read  a  Christian  tract.  The 
brothers  called  him  to  come  and  eat  of  the  food  which 
had  first  been  offered  to  the  idols.  His  reply  sent  con- 
sternation to  their  hearts,  "I  have  even  now  believed  in 
Jesus  Christ,  and  will  no  longer  have  anything  to  do  with 
idols,  and  will  not  eat  anything  that  has  been  offered  to 
idols."  There  was  a  hot  dispute  on  the  spot.  Finally 
the  brothers  asked,  "Then  how  do  you  expect  to  make 


A   SOCIAL   REVOLUTION  l8l 

your  living?"  Oogriah  replied  wearily:  "Do  not  ask  me 
that.  God  will  show  me.  If  he  does  not  see  fit  to  feed 
me,  I'll  die." 

This  was  the  beginning  of  eighteen  months  of  hard 
contest  in  that  family.  Oogriah  had  been  their  pride. 
Through  him  they  were  well-to-do.  Now  he  was  as  noth- 
ing among  them.  His  wife  turned  against  him,  and  her 
family  took  her  away.  The  mother  alone  was  on 
Oogriah's  side.  She  reproved  his  brothers  when  they 
went  too  far  in  showing  disrespect  to  him.  They  tried 
to  go  about  with  their  idols  as  before,  but  they  missed 
Oogriah.  Contracts  had  been  made  here  and  there  to 
perform  the  drama  of  Krishna;  much  gain  was  in  sight. 
As  Oogriah  always  played  the  chief  part  they  had  to 
cancel  the  contracts  and  return  the  money  advanced  to 
them.  Wherever  they  went  they  were  asked  what  mad- 
ness possessed  Oogriah. 

I  passed  that  way  on  tour.  It  gave  prestige  to 
Oogriah.  Everybody  came  to  my  camp ;  his  brothers,  too, 
came.  I  talked  with  them,  but  they  held  back.  I  was  the 
first  white  man  they  had  seen  near  by.  As  they  stood 
and  watched  me  they  decided  that  "this  Dhora  could  have 
earned  food  and  clothes  if  he  had  stayed  in  his  own  coun- 
try, and  his  religion  therefore  could  not  be  worthless." 
Oogriah  followed  me  from  camp  to  camp,  and  when 
finally  he  returned  home  his  brothers  asked  him,  "Why 
do  you  come  back  ?  Did  not  your  Guru  take  you  straight 
to  heaven?"  As  the  months  passed  Oogriah  withdrew 
from  home.  His  strength  was  giving  way.  He  stayed 
with  Christians  in  a  neighboring  village  and  did  coolie 
work  to  support  himself.  He  and  his  Christian  friends 
felt  the  strain  intolerable.  They  set  ten  days'  time  dur- 
ing which  they  would  pray  for  those  three  brothers. 

Something  now  happened.  The  brothers  were  con- 
ducting a  household  ceremony  with  their  idols.  There 


1 82  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN   THE   ORIENT 

was  feasting  and  drinking,  and  then  all  slept.  Mean- 
while, a  dog  came  and  carried  off  in  its  teeth  the  best  of 
the  idols,  made  of  copper  and  silver,  and  left  it  on  a  heap 
of  rubbish.  At  dawn  it  was  found  there  with  the  marks 
of  the  dog's  teeth  upon  it.  This  occurrence  shook  the 
eldest  brother.  When  next  he  tried  to  conduct  worship 
with  the  idols  his  hands  trembled.  He  gave  up  then. 
There  came  a  night  when  he  could  not  sleep  because  a 
hard  fight  was  going  on  within  him.  In  the  morning  he 
walked  toward  the  village  where  his  brother  Oogriah  was 
staying.  Eight  of  the  ten  days  had  passed.  Oogriah  had 
just  had  a  dream  that  his  eldest  brother  was  praying  with 
him.  He  was  coming  toward  home.  They  met.  They 
fell  upon  each  other's  neck  and  wept.  There  was  rejoic- 
ing in  the  family.  They  came  together  in  a  group  to 
Ongole.  The  four  brothers  became  preachers.  Oogriah 
was  a  valuable  man,  and  when  he  suddenly  died  of 
cholera  his  place  was  never  filled. 

The  mothers  generally  ranged  themselves  on  the  side 
of  the  heretic.  The  strong  tie  of  motherhood  could  bear 
any  strain.  But  sometimes  even  that  failed.  In  one  in- 
stance, on  our  field,  a  mother  cursed  her  son ;  never,  even 
when  he  was  an  elderly  man,  could  he  speak  of  it  without 
tears  running  down  his  cheeks.  He  was  Namburi  Pedda 
Lakshmanursu,  a  Mala  priest.  The  first  of  the  Chris- 
tian preachers  who  came  to  his  village  found  him  fiercely 
opposed.  But  when  Oogriah  came  and  talked  with  him, 
he  admitted  that  there  was  food  for  the  soul  in  this  new 
religion.  His  attitude  soon  turned  the  village  against 
him.  His  mother  and  two  younger  brothers  withdrew 
from  him.  They  treated  his  wife  harshly,  telling  her 
that  if  she  had  courage  to  leave  him  he  would  soon  come 
back  to  the  old  ways.  He  brought  her  relief  by  saying 
to  her  before  them,  "You  cannot  keep  me  from  becoming 


A   SOCIAL  REVOLUTION  183 

a  Christian,  even  though  you  leave  me."  She  gently 
replied,  "Why  should  I  go  where  you  are  not  ?" 

He  endured  this  for  a  time.  Then  he  came  to  Ongole, 
asked  for  baptism  and  consented  to  have  his  top-knot  of 
hair  cut  off.  As  he  returned  home  he  found  his  wife  by 
the  roadside  waiting  for  him,  her  child  in  her  arms.  He 
saw  that  she  was  crying  and  knew  what  he  had  to  face. 
With  a  firm  step  he  went  to  the  house.  He  laid  his  tur- 
ban aside,  preparatory  to  performing  his  duties  as  a 
householder.  When  his  mother  saw  his  head,  saw  that 
the  juttu  was  gone,  she  said,  in  a  voice  choked  with 
fierce  emotion :  "I  brought  you  forth  and  cared  for  you 
in  the  hope  that  in  my  old  age  I  should  be  cared  for  by 
you.  But  now  I  shall  not  eat  food  that  comes  from  your 
hands.  Go  away!  You  are  to  me  as  those  who  are 
dead!" 

The  two  younger  brothers  became  Christians,  the  father 
died  with  a  quiet  faith  and  trust  in  Jesus  Christ.  The 
mother  was  outwardly  unyielding,  yet  she  was  growing 
old  and  was  glad  when  she  could  have  at  least  one  of  her 
sons  at  home  with  her.  It  happened  at  a  time  when  the 
three  sons  were  away  from  home  for  a  few  days  that  she 
died,  after  a  short  illness.  When  the  tidings  reached 
them,  the  three  men  looked  at  each  other.  Each  knew 
the  thought  of  the  other.  The  eldest  son  hid  his  face  in 
his  hands  and  wept :  "She  said  that  I  was  as  one  dead  to 
her,  and  no  food  would  she  accept  at  my  hands  in  her  old 
age.  She  has  died  with  her  sons  far  distant,  alone,  as 
she  said  she  would  be." 

It  all  was  hard  to  bear.  Yet  none  of  us  felt  like  mak- 
ing a  compromise.  I  might  have  told  the  preachers  not 
to  cut  off  the  sacred  top-knots  of  the  men  if  trouble  was 
bound  to  come  thereby.  I  might  have  taught  the  Chris- 
tians to  be  obedient  to  their  Sudra  masters  in  the  first 
place,  and  to  consider  their  duty  fulfilled  if  they  came  to 


184  SOCIAL    CHRISTIANITY   IN    THE   ORIENT 

the  village  meeting  on  free  Sundays.  I  might  have  been 
conciliatory  about  the  beating  of  those  drums,  telling  the 
men  to  disengage  themselves  quietly  from  this  old-time 
obligation,  but  if  pressed  into  this  service  to  yield.  I 
might  have  done  all  this,  and  it  would  have  made  it  far 
easier  for  us  all.  But  it  would  have  introduced  a  flabby 
kind  of  Christianity  not  worthy  of  the  name. 

If  I  had  sailed  smoothly  along,  compromising  every- 
where, the  great  experiences  of  the  ingathering  would 
have  dwindled  down  to  nothing.  The  social  status  of  the 
Madigas  would  have  remained  unchanged.  They  would 
have  lacked  occasion  to  take  a  stand  that  called  for  a  re- 
adjustment of  their  position  in  the  community.  But  our 
social  revolution  came  to  pass  at  heavy  cost. 

All  through  the  years  the  Telugu  Bible  which  lay  on 
my  office  table  was  well  worn  in  several  places.  Three 
pages,  especially,  were  soiled  with  many  a  finger  mark. 
One  was  "Come  unto  me  all  ye  that  labor" ;  another  was 
"In  my  Father's  house  are  many  mansions";  the  third 
was  "Blessed  are  ye  when  men  shall  revile  you  and  perse- 
cute you  for  my  name's  sake." 


XII 

THE   IMPACT  OF   WEST   UPON   EAST 

BY  the  time  our  first  five  years  in  Ongole  were  over 
the  foundations  had  been  laid.  The  eight  taluks  over 
which  the  movement  spread  had  by  that  time  been  touched 
with  our  activities.  The  field  was  dotted  with  Christian 
centers.  We  had  a  membership  of  more  than  fifteen 
hundred,  and  many  adherents.  The  staff  of  workers  who 
stood  with  me  during  all  the  years  that  followed  had 
already  gathered  around  us.  It  was  yet  seven  years  to 
the  ingathering.  We  were  getting  ready  for  it. 

In  those  early  years  of  the  movement  we  were  singu- 
larly free  from  the  admixture  of  Western  ideas.  This 
was  not  wholly  in  accordance  with  my  intentions.  If  I 
had  had  my  way  I  would  have  had  a  theological  school 
in  full  operation  a  year  after  we  settled  in  Ongole.  I 
begged  for  one,  year  after  year.  Not  until  ten  years  had 
gone  by,  and  the  ingathering  had  become  a  fact,  did  the 
first  class  of  seminary  graduates  come  to  join  the  old 
preachers  of  the  mission.  By  that  time  the  movement 
had  become  unwieldy.  Western  organization  had  to  be- 
gin. The  old  days  were  then  over. 

I  wanted  a  seminary  in  order  to  give  our  preachers  a 
wider  outlook  as  Christians.  It  was  to  make  up  to  them 
for  the  lack  of  birth  in  a  Christian  land.  Their  horizon 
was  bounded  by  their  simple  Indian  village  life.  Of  the 
great  world  beyond  they  knew  nothing.  In  a  hazy  way 
they  understood  that  there  was  a  strange  country  from 
which  the  white  man  came,  that  the  religion  of  the  white 

185 


l86  SOCIAL    CHRISTIANITY   IN    THE   ORIENT 

man  was  the  Christian  religion,  that  the  caste  people  re- 
fused to  have  anything  to  do  with  this  religion  and  looked 
upon  it  with  hatred.  This  was  the  group  of  ideas  which 
constituted  the  mental  attitude  of  the  average  Madiga 
toward  Christianity.  I  wanted  our  preachers  to  realize 
their  place  in  the  world  as  Christians,  to  learn  geography 
and  find  out  that  on  two  continents  Christianity  was  the 
only  religion.  I  wanted  them  to  know  something  about 
the  way  in  which  the  apostles  founded  churches,  and  how 
it  all  came  about  that  after  a  man  believes  in  Jesus  Christ 
he  must  fulfill  certain  duties,  which  are  called  Christian 
duties.  I  tried  to  bring  the  men  in  touch  with  this  knowl- 
edge. It  was  hard  work.  I  had  nothing  in  their  lives  to 
help  me.  Steady  drill  in  an  institution  was  required. 
This  we  could  not  get.  Perhaps  the  Lord  Jesus  did  not 
want  us  to  have  it.  The  men  kept  their  narrow  horizon. 
They  gave  to  Jesus  Christ  a  central  place  in  their  little 
world  of  ideas.  With  him  as  the  dominant  figure  their 
simple  ideas  and  simple  lives  became  avenues  of  force. 
I  watched  it,  and  felt  no  fears.  Yet  no  one  knew  better 
than  I  that  I  was  off  the  beaten  track  in  letting  our  men 
carry  such  heavy  responsibility  as  Christian  preachers  on 
so  narrow  a  basis  of  Christian  training. 

Several  of  our  leading  men  never  came  to  our  school 
in  Ongole.  Periah  was  one  of  these.  They  were  so  com- 
plete in  the  fitness  for  their  calling,  and  were  doing  so 
great  a  work  on  the  field,  that  it  would  have  seemed  out 
of  place  for  me  to  ask  them  to  step  aside  awhile  and 
learn  to  read.  But  the  majority  of  that  early  group  of 
men  came  for  a  time.  Afterwards  it  was  counted  an 
honor  when  a  man  could  say  that  he  was  one  of  those  who 
were  in  our  school  during  the  first  three  years.  We  never 
again  had  such  a  group  of  men  together,  and  we  never 
put  so  much  heart  into  the  training  of  any  other  company 
of  men.  They  had  stood  at  the  top  of  the  Madiga  com- 


THE   IMPACT   OF   WEST    UPON    EAST  187 

munity,  and  were  called  now  to  stand  at  the  top  of  the 
Christian  community.  They  were  the  ones  who  were 
afterwards  called,  with  great  affection,  "the  big — or  elder 
— preachers"  of  the  mission. 

They  began  by  learning  the  complicated  Telugu  alpha- 
bet. Then  they  advanced  to  "Messages  for  All"  as  a 
text-book.  It  was  a  proud  day  for  them  when  I  gave 
them  each  a  Bible  and  they  found  they  could  spell  out 
verses  and  whole  chapters.  They  were  eager  to  learn 
everything  that  came  their  way.  The  preachers  who  had 
come  from  Nellore  with  us,  and  their  wives,  taught  these 
men  and  women  much  about  the  Christian  way  of  living. 
They  supplied  an  element  of  instruction  that  was  needed. 
Mrs.  Clough  taught  them;  she  took  the  wives  of  those 
men  into  training.  It  was  yet  the  day  of  small  things; 
our  hands  were  not  so  full  otherwise.  Whatever  of 
teaching  capacity  I  had  those  men  of  the  early  days  were 
given  the  benefit  of  it.  Never  after  did  I  put  so  much 
of  myself  into  a  class  of  men  as  I  did  into  these.  It  was 
one  reason  why  they  and  I  could  work  together  after- 
wards as  one  man. 

The  instruction  which  they  received,  though  of  the 
type  of  American  Christianity,  was  nevertheless  of  an 
Eastern  mold.  Our  lives  were  simple;  our  religious 
services  were  equally  simple.  Had  they  seen  social  for- 
mality with  us,  or  religious  ceremonial,  it  might  have 
confused  them.  Moreover,  it  was  not  our  motive  to  in- 
troduce these  men  and  women,  in  the  year  or  two  while 
they  were  living  in  our  compound,  to  as  many  Western 
forms  of  thought  as  they  were  able  to  absorb.  It  was 
the  other  way:  we  were  seeking  everywhere  for  the 
points  of  contact  where  the  direct  application  could  be 
made  of  Western  thought  to  Eastern  ways.  When  they 
returned  to  their  villages  they  had  been  in  no  way  weaned 
from  their  old  environment.  On  the  contrary,  they  saw 


1 88  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN   THE   ORIENT 

possibilities  everywhere  of  welding  together,  as  a  new 
but  compact  whole,  the  essentials  of  Western  Christianity 
with  the  spiritual  background  which  was  already  theirs. 

I  took  those  men  touring  with  me  while  they  were  in 
school.  They  served  their  apprenticeship  under  me  in 
this  practical  way.  Those  early  tours  were  a  mixture 
between  West  and  East.  The  habits  of  my  colporter 
days  in  northern  Iowa  were  still  strong  upon  me.  At 
the  same  time,  the  habits  of  those  men  were  marked  with 
the  ways  of  the  Hindu  Guru.  Some  of  them  had  been 
Gurus  themselves.  All  had  had  more  or  less  to  do  with 
Gurus.  If  I  had  been  lacking  in  elasticity  the  efforts  of 
us  all  would  have  been  crippled.  I  did  not  try  to  make 
Americans  of  those  men.  The  effect  would  have  been 
grotesque.  They  would  have  been  neither  Hindu  nor 
American,  and  their  own  mothers  would  have  been  puz- 
zled about  their  status.  As  it  was,  they  remained  simple, 
humble  Madigas — but  Christianized.  There  was  a  simi- 
lar process  in  my  case.  I  remained  an  American.  The 
Hindus  respected  that  in  me  which  spoke  to  them  of  my 
own  country.  Yet  I  met  them  halfway.  The  aggres- 
siveness of  the  American  colporter  was  changed  into  the 
more  reposeful  ways  of  the  oriental  teacher.  Had  I  re- 
tained my  Western  methods  of  evangelistic  work  the 
Hindus  would  have  tolerated  and  endured  my  presence 
among  them — nothing  more.  When  now  I  fell  into  line 
at  every  point,  watching  the  preachers  in  their  ways,  and 
dealing  with  everyone  as  I  saw  it  was  expected  of  me, 
the  effort  became  organic.  It  fitted  in.  We  lived  and 
breathed  together  as  one  organism. 

There  was  a  call  for  these  men  all  over  the  field.  The 
people  were  eagerly  waiting  for  them.  They  were  their 
own,  and  had  been  given  up  to  us  for  a  time.  Messages 
were  continually  sent  to  me  asking  when  they  would  have 
learned  enough  and  could  come  back.  There  was  a  spirit 


THE   IMPACT   OF   WEST    UPON    EAST  189 

of  perseverance  among  the  men.  They  knew,  even  bet- 
ter than  I,  that  the  converts  were  pressing  in,  and  that 
there  was  no  one  on  the  field  to  shepherd  them.  The  day 
came  when  I  talked  it  over  with  fifteen  of  them.  Several 
hesitated;  they  wanted  to  learn  more,  and  had  capacity 
to  do  so.  They  all  wanted  me  to  promise  to  give  them 
another  opportunity.  I  said  I  would  if  it  lay  in  my 
power.  Not  one  of  them  needed  to  wait  for  a  call.  Their 
places  were  ready  for  them.  The  question  adjusted  itself 
according  to  family  and  village  relationship.  Where  a 
man  was  known  as  belonging  to  certain  families  in  a 
group  of  villages  there  he  wanted  to  be  located  as  pastor. 
It  was  an  Indian  way  of  doing  it.  I  did  not  interfere. 
Thaluri  Daniel  went  back  to  Dondleru ;  Sreeram  Solomon 
went  to  Darsi;  Baddepudy  Abraham  became  an  evange- 
list in  the  northern  taluks;  Anumiah  went  to  Cumbum. 
They  all  found  their  rightful  places. 

By  a  natural  process  new  Christian  centers  were  form- 
ing everywhere.  We  did  nothing  to  organize  them :  they 
simply  grew.  In  each  case  there  was  a  man  there  who 
by  a  sort  of  common  consent  became  the  leader.  These 
men  had  not  come  straight  out  of  the  ordinary  village 
worship.  They  had  either  come  along  the  road  of  Raja 
Yoga  teaching,  or  they  had  been  in  our  school,  or  both. 
The  people  looked  up  to  them  now,  and  willingly  received 
Christian  teaching  from  them.  The  men  saw  to  the  up- 
keep of  the  Sunday  services  in  one  village  after  another. 
They  took  steps  to  help  the  people  find  some  one  to  teach 
their  children  to  read.  Each  village  sent  some  of  the 
best  of  their  boys  and  girls,  and  their  young  men  and 
women  to  our  Ongole  school.  It  required  some  years  of 
patience,  and  they  came  back  with  attainments  so  far 
ahead  of  anything  the  others  had  known  that  all  felt  a 
great  day  had  dawned. 

During  those  early  years  I  never  lost  sight  of  the  need 


SOCIAL    CHRISTIANITY    IN    THE    ORIENT 

for  native  agency.  I  could  find  no  other  solution  of  our 
problem.  The  need  had  to  be  met  without  the  help  of  a 
theological  school.  I  was  always  on  the  alert,  looking 
for  men  and  women  who  had  the  qualities  of  leadership 
in  them.  I  enlisted  every  man  and  woman  who  stood 
above  the  average,  or  possessed  personality  which  could 
be  drawn  into  service  in  their  own  sphere  of  life.  Often 
they  were  unconscious  of  any  latent  abilities.  I  let  them 
know  that  I  wanted  them,  and  the  agencies,  already  at 
work,  did  the  rest.  They  took  hold  of  the  Christian 
motive.  Native  agency  was  made  a  great  force  in  Chris- 
tianizing the  Madigas.  It  became  a  prominent  feature 
of  the  Ongole  methods. 

The  harvest  of  workers  in  those  early  years  came 
chiefly  from  the  Kanigiri  and  Podili  taluks.  They  had 
enough  there  to  supply  their  own  needs,  and  to  spare. 
There  was  a  background  of  spiritual  strength  in  the 
Christians  of  those  two  taluks  which  marked  the  men 
and  women  who  went  forth  from  them.  Intermarriage 
among  the  leading  Christian  families  of  our  field  was 
now  beginning  to  have  an  effect.  The  sense  of  family 
cohesion  was  strong  among  our  early  Christians.  It  be- 
came a  legitimate  factor  in  Christian  propaganda.  When 
men  from  those  two  taluks  found  a  place  for  labor  re- 
mote from  home,  it  was  generally  the  case  that  family 
relationship  with  themselves,  or  with  the  wife,  had 
formed  a  strong  motive.  I  saw  that  this  was  the  oriental 
way  of  doing,  and  raised  no  objections. 

The  women  had  a  good  deal  to  say  in  these  matters. 
If  a  man  wanted  to  settle  as  preacher  or  teacher  away 
from  home  I  always  asked  him  what  his  wife  thought 
about  it.  If  she  objected  and  the  man  was  making  this 
move  against  her  will  or  the  will  of  her  family,  the  chances 
for  success  were  small.  I  learned  by  experience  that  it 
would  take  only  a  year  or  two,  and  then  for  some  reason, 


THE   IMPACT   OF    WEST    UPON    EAST  IQI 

sickness  perhaps,  he  and  she  returned  home — a  failure. 
I  had  good  reason  for  enlisting  the  women  from  the  be- 
ginning, and  making  them  come  to  our  schools  with 
their  husbands.  Even  if  they  had  not  capacity  to  learn 
more  than  their  alphabet,  they  absorbed  so  much  of  the 
new  ideas  that  at  least  they  did  not  hinder  their  husbands 
afterwards.  The  Woman's  Baptist  Foreign  Missionary 
Society  of  the  West  began  in  those  early  years  to  supply 
funds  for  our  girls'  boarding  school  in  Ongole,  and  is 
continuing  to  do  this  to-day.  To  the  Hindus,  as  they 
looked  on,  the  education  of  the  Madiga  girls  and  women 
was  one  of  the  strangest  features  of  the  new  religion. 

Sometimes  there  were  women  who  had  more  capacity 
to  learn  than  their  husbands.  I  utilized  that.  After  they 
had  settled  in  some  central  place,  the  men  went  here  and 
there  to  preach.  The  women  began  a  school  under  a 
large,  shady  tree  in  the  village.  Then  the  people  wanted 
a  schoolhouse.  They  saved  up  money;  they  begged  me 
to  help  them  with  funds  from  America.  The  men  of  the 
village  built  the  walls  with  stone  laid  in  mud,  they  bought 
a  beam  and  rafters  and  thatch  for  the  roof.  They  were 
proud  of  this  house.  It  served  for  the  school ;  the  Sunday 
services  were  held  in  it;  it  formed  a  rallying-place  and 
marked  that  village  as  a  Christian  center.  Often  when 
the  caste  people  saw  this,  it  was  the  signal  for  petty  perse- 
cutions. They  said:  "Have  these  low  people  become 
greater  than  we?" 

In  all  this  work  of  social  uplifting,  the  village  elders 
took  a  leading  part.  There  were  five  of  these  in  every 
village,  and  together  they  formed  the  panchayat,  or  coun- 
cil. It  was  self-administration  similar  to  that  of  the  main 
village,  where  the  Sudras  lived — pointing  to  the  same 
Dravidian  origin  of  both  Sudras  and  Madigas.  The 
office  was  for  life  and  in  a  way  hereditary.  If  a  man's 
son  was  not  considered  competent  to  take  his  father's 


192  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN   THE   ORIENT 

place  at  death,  some  one  else  could  be  substituted  by  com- 
mon consent  of  the  village.  These  elders  became  of 
great  importance  to  the  movement.  I  came  upon  them 
everywhere.  When  the  preachers  went  out  in  new  direc- 
tions, the  elders  of  the  villages  they  entered  were  bound 
to  see  that  they  were  given  to  eat.  They  inquired  after 
the  preacher's  errand,  and  had  to  yield  to  the  demand 
that  the  village  people  be  called  together  to  hear  about 
the  new  religion.  If  then  the  preachers  came  to  me  and 
told  me  that  people  in  distant  villages  were  believing  in 
Jesus  Christ,  and  they  could  add  that  several  of  the 
elders,  too,  believed,  and  had  consented  to  have  their 
juttus  cut  off,  I  knew  that  they  had  a  strong  hold  upon 
that  village.  When  I  went  out  on  tour,  the  village  elders 
everywhere  came  to  the  front  and  did  the  honors,  extend- 
ing the  hospitality  of  the  village  to  me.  They  were  con- 
sulted when  there  were  candidates  for  baptism.  The 
preachers  knew  those  applicants,  but  the  village  elders 
knew  them  better.  They  came  forward  and  gave  testi- 
mony, for  or  against. 

The  preachers  everywhere  relied  upon  the  elders;  nor 
did  they  ask  for  anything  in  return  for  their  services. 
Under  the  old  regime  they  had  been  granted  some  few 
acres  of  land  in  return  for  their  services.  They  were 
well-to-do  compared  to  the  rest.  All  this  was  now  ab- 
sorbed by  the  Christian  movement.  The  baptism  of  a 
village  elder  meant  that  his  power  in  the  village  was  now 
to  be  used  for  the  Master.  He  was  given  the  Chris- 
tian motive.  The  Christian  ethical  code  was  to  be  fol- 
lowed. He  was  bound  to  learn  from  the  preachers  what 
it  meant  to  lead  the  Christian  life,  and  then  to  bring 
the  whole  village  to  that  standard.  Such  a  man  was  a 
deacon.  The  time  came  when  it  was  an  honor  to  be  a 
Christian  elder  on  that  Ongole  field.  It  meant  to  a  man 
that  he  stood  at  the  front  of  a  social  uprising  of  his 


THE   IMPACT   OF   WEST   UPON   EAST  193 

people.  Suffering  on  this  account  was  accepted  with 
fortitude. 

If  I  had  not  adapted  myself  to  this  oriental  feature 
of  the  movement,  Christianizing  the  village  elders  and 
letting  them  stay  in  their  old-time  places,  I  would  have 
missed  a  great  opportunity.  Nor  did  I  sit  down  and 
think  it  all  out.  It  came  about  naturally,  and  the  Lord 
Jesus  gave  me  wisdom  to  see  the  bearings  of  it  all. 

There  was  another  question,  however,  to  which  I  gave 
a  great  deal  of  thought ;  I  studied  it ;  I  looked  at  it  from 
every  point  of  view.  It  did  not  come  about  naturally. 
I  was  willing  to  do  everything  in  my  power  to  bring 
it  to  pass  somehow.  It  oppressed  me  like  some  stern 
unfulfilled  duty.  This  great  problem,  which  I  never 
fully  solved,  was  the  organization  of  churches. 

I  wanted  to  make  a  beginning  in  the  Podili  taluk  by 
organizing  a  church  at  Dondleru.  I  saw  that  the  inter- 
related families  of  that  taluk,  who  had  come  to  us,  would 
lend  themselves  more  readily  to  organization,  than  simi- 
lar groups  of  families  in  other  parts  of  the  field.  They 
were  prosperous  and  could  do  much  to  support  their 
schools  and  their  preachers.  Some  of  the  best  teachers 
in  the  mission,  who  afterwards  served  on  the  staff  of 
station  schools  and  our  theological  seminary,  came  from 
the  Podili  taluk.  I  was  justified  in  thinking  this  the 
place  for  an  experiment.  Twenty  years  later,  when 
churches  were  organized  on  the  whole  field,  those  that 
came  closest  to  the  Western  model  were  located  in  that 
taluk. 

But  I  did  not  dare  to  attempt  it  in  those  early  years. 
Of  spiritual  life  there  was  no  lack.  Some  of  the 
preachers  had  abundant  insight  and  sanctified  common 
sense.  But  to  set  off  a  church,  not  as  a  branch  of  the 
Ongole  church,  but  as  an  independent  self-sustaining 
Baptist  church,  was  something  which  at  that  time  I  had 


194  SOCIAL    CHRISTIANITY    IN    THE    ORIENT 

not  the  courage  to  undertake.  The  question  of  recep- 
tion of  members  was  in  itself  sufficient  to  cause  hesita- 
tion. There  is  an  old  letter  from  Dr.  Jewett  among  my 
papers,  in  which  he  answers  for  the  second  time  my 
anxious  question  whether  to  organize  a  church  at  Dond- 
leru  or  not.  He  replied  to  go  and  study  the  situation, 
and  then,  if  it  seemed  right,  to  place  Ezra  or  Rungiah 
in  charge  as  pastor  and  let  that  Christian  center  become 
an  organized  church.  That  was  the  point:  I  could  not 
spare  Ezra  or  Rungiah  from  the  work  at  headquarters. 
Moreover,  neither  Ezra  nor  Rungiah  had  passed  through 
Raja  Yoga  teaching;  they  had  led  the  Christian  life  since 
boyhood.  In  their  Western  mode  of  thought  they  were 
distinct  from  the  rest  of  the  Ongole  preachers.  Dis- 
sensions might  have  been  the  result.  Nor  did  one  or 
two  churches  meet  the  requirement.  The  preachers 
would  have  asked  me  why  I  did  not  organize  others. 
I  decided  that  there  was  too  much  at  stake.  It  could 
not  be  done. 

Often  I  felt  anxious  for  the  outcome.  Here  was  a 
Christian  community  growing  to  ever  larger  propor- 
tions, without  being  brought  into  conformity  to  the  insti- 
tutions of  the  Christian  Church.  I  called  the  preachers 
to  Ongole  every  hot  season  for  six  weeks  to  a  preachers' 
institute.  I  studied  portions  of  the  Bible  with  them  and 
taught  them  Christian  doctrine.  They  were  teachable 
and  were  anxious  to  do  all  that  was  expected  of  them. 
When,  twenty  years  later,  these  men  were  ordained  to 
the  ministry,  twenty-four  at  one  time,  it  was  found  that 
they  had  the  knowledge  required  of  them,  though  it 
had  been  given  them  in  a  fragmentary  way. 

From  the  beginning  they  were  strong  in  certain  direc- 
tions. Their  efficiency  in  going  about  and  telling  the 
people  about  Jesus  Christ  was  great.  They  were  at  the 
head  in  the  social  uprising  which  Christian  teaching 


THE   IMPACT   OF   WEST    UPON    EAST 

inevitably  brought.  They  knew  about  movements,  about 
sects  developing  through  some  eminent  teacher  or  re- 
former, about  disciples  and  adherents  gathering  around 
some  religious  teacher  who  placed  their  feet  upon  a 
way  of  salvation.  All  this  they  knew,  as  it  was  part 
of  Indian  religious  life,  and  they  applied  their  knowl- 
edge to  the  Christian  propaganda. 

They  did  not,  however,  find  it  easy  to  understand  why 
they  should  group  themselves  as  churches,  each  church 
a  distinct  unit,  self-governing  and  self-sustaining,  thus 
fostering  their  religious  life.  They  did  not  readily  grasp 
the  reason  why  it  was  not  enough  to  love  and  serve  the 
Lord  Jesus.  They  adjusted  themselves,  and  learned 
slowly  about  lists  of  members  and  stated  contributions, 
about  voting  on  the  business  of  the  church,  excluding 
members  and  receiving  them,  observing  the  sacraments 
and  all  the  varied  duties  of  membership.  It  was  all  so 
different  from  their  own  ways  of  self-administration, 
with  their  five  village  elders,  and  their  panchayat,  and 
the  Gurus  going  back  and  forth.  We  compromised.  I 
adopted  their  system,  «and  they  adopted  mine.  It  pro- 
duced a  mixture.  There  was  blessing  in  it. 

That  band  of  old  Ongole  preachers,  about  thirty  in 
number,  who  came  to  us  before  our  first  five  years  were 
over,  formed  a  continuity  of  great  power,  and  of  an 
endurance  that  was  never  shaken.  They  stood  as  a 
group  from  beginning  to  end.  At  the  time  when  the 
American  Baptists  were  yet  considering  whether  to  aban- 
don or  reenforce  their  Telugu  Mission,  and  when  I  was 
wrestling  with  my  ambition  for  a  political  career,  the 
nucleus  of  this  band  of  preachers  was  already  formed. 
They  had  stepped  out  of  their  old  village  worship,  and 
then  had  disengaged  themselves  from  the  iron  grip  of  the 
village  community  by  going  north  on  trade.  There  the 
group  was  increasing  in  numbers,  and  all  were  eager  to 


196  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN   THE   ORIENT 

find  out  something  about  the  new  religion.  I  had  barely 
settled  in  Ongole  when  they  came  upon  me  almost  as 
one  man — and  they  stayed.  They  were  in  our  school 
together.  They  gave  their  sons  and  daughters  to  each 
other  in  marriage,  till  that  whole  staff  of  preachers 
was  like  one  great  family.  When  the  famine  came,  those 
thirty  men  were  the  overseers  in  digging  three  miles  of 
canal  and  they  were  the  friends  of  all  the  people.  Then 
came  the  ingathering  and  again  they  stood  as  one  man. 
I  was  left  year  after  year,  alone,  over  a  church  of  twenty 
thousand  members.  No  disaster  came :  these  men  were 
all  at  their  post.  The  field  was  divided ;  they  stayed  in 
their  places  as  before.  The  new  missionaries  learned 
to  love  these  old  men,  and  to  lean  on  them.  They 
formed  a  continuity  of  Ongole  methods.  There  were 
never  any  serious  dissensions  among  them.  They  were 
honored  in  their  old  age  by  the  younger  generation. 

Those  old  preachers  made  the  movement,  and  the 
movement  made  them,  and  all  together  they  made  me, 
and  Jesus,  our  Master,  was  in  the  midst  of  it. 

A  change  came  with  the  day  of  the  younger  men, 
who  had  taken  a  course  of  three  or  four  years  in  our 
theological  seminary.  They  could  preach  sermons 
with  logical  divisions  and  a  conclusion.  They  had 
studied  the  Old  Testament  and  dwelt  much  on  the  chil- 
dren of  Israel.  They  understood  about  the  Church  and 
the  Christian  ordinances.  I  was  glad  to  see  them  in 
their  trained  strength.  But  the  old  men  stood  unmoved. 
They  knew  their  own  worth. 

Groups  of  them  came  to  Ongole  to  tell  their  story, 
that  it  might  be  incorporated  with  mine.  We  were 
knitted  together — nothing  else  was  possible.  Sometimes 
they  dropped  the  thread  of  the  story  and  went  into 
reminiscences  together.  They  reminded  each  other  how 
the  man  who  was  already  in  debt  by  paying  some  Guru 


THE   IMPACT    OF   WEST    UPON    EAST 

a  heavy  price  had  to  go  still  further  into  debt  because 
all  the  others  came  and  wanted  to  know  what  he  had 
learned,  and  he  had  to  give  them  to  eat  while  they 
stayed.  There  were  flashes  of  humor.  They  laughed 
together.  Sitting  at  the  feet  of  Raja  Yoga  Gurus,  even 
though  many  of  them  were  worthless,  had  been  a  rich 
experience  to  them  which  they  would  not  willingly  have 
missed  out  of  their  lives.  We  asked  one  or  two  of 
those  who  had  been  considered  worthy  of  initiation  what 
was  said  to  them.  They  made  the  Telugu  gesture  which 
means  silence.  Neither  Periah  nor  any  of  the  others 
would  give  the  slightest  intimation  of  the  mystery  of 
their  initiation.  They  were  silent  with  dignity.  It  was 
a  place  in  their  past  with  which  they  refused  to  break. 
Their  faith  in  Jesus,  the  Christ,  had  come  into  their 
lives,  as  something  very  precious,  which  had  cost  them 
dear.  With  tears,  fighting  down  the  sobs,  they  told 
how  their  families  cast  them  out,  how  their  Sudra  mas- 
ters turned  against  them,  how  the  Brahmans  oppressed 
them,  and  how  yet  they  came  through  as  conquerors. 
Those  old  men  knew  that  their  stories  were  unusual. 
They  had  had  a  chance  to  compare  them  with  the  un- 
eventful lives  of  the  younger  generation.  Their  eyes 
shone.  They  were  like  old  war-horses  with  the  smell 
of  powder  in  their  nostrils. 

Yet  these  men  had  not  been  in  a  theological  seminary. 
The  Lord  Jesus  had  kept  them  in  their  oriental  setting. 
They  stood  for  a  movement  little  hampered  by  Western 
organization. 

In  their  place,  at  the  point  of  impact  of  West  upon 
East,  the  group  of  old  Ongole  preachers  had  to  bear 
the  shock  of  it  in  every  direction.  The  Hindus  combined 
in  their  resistance.  Our  religion  was  a  topic  of  conver- 
sation among  them.  What  they  said  to  one  another 
about  it  they  used  against  the  preachers  and  me,  as  we 


198  SOCIAL    CHRISTIANITY    IN    THE    ORIENT 

went  about.  Often  when  I  had  a  group  of  listeners 
before  me,  some  Brahman  engaged  me  in  debate,  flinging 
questions  at  me  as  fast  as  I  could  answer  them.  These 
were  some  of  them : 


"Will  you  young  English  upstarts  teach  us  religion? 
Were  the  Hindus  not  a  great  people,  skilled  in  all  the 
sciences,  with  a  grand  system  of  religion,  when  your  an- 
cestors were  wild  men,  clothed  with  skins,  and  running  in 
the  jungle?  Did  you  not  get  all  that  you  know  from  India? 
If  the  Bible  is  true,  would  not  God  have  given  it  long  ago 
to  us?  Would  it  not  have  been  given  to  the  Hindus  writ- 
ten in  the  sacred  Sanscrit,  when  you  were  jungle  men?  Is 
not  all  that  it  contains  and  much  more  written  in  the  Vedas  ? 
Shall  we  throw  away  these  sacred  books,  written  a  thousand 
years  before  this  Jesus  Christ  was  born?  Shall  we  break 
our  caste  and  all  become  Pariahs  ?  The  Bible  may  be  good 
for  the  English,  but  we  do  not  need  it." 

I  could  hold  my  own  before  such  attacks;  for  I  was 
a  white  man  and  aware  of  the  resources  of  my  race. 
The  preachers  had  neither  the  knowledge  nor  the  status 
to  face  them.  They  were  often  in  difficulty,  especially 
when  at  the  outposts  of  the  field.  I  always  advised 
them  to  avoid  discussion;  for  I  knew  how  unequal  the 
combat  must  be.  The  caste  people  set  traps  for  them; 
they  asked  some  seemingly  simple  question,  and  when 
the  preachers  answered  it,  they  found  themselves  caught. 
They  were  held  up  to  the  derision  of  the  village.  Sticks 
and  stones  were  brought  forward.  There  were  times 
when  they  had  a  mob  falling  upon  them,  and  they  could 
save  themselves  only  by  running  to  the  police  station. 

Year  after  year  I  pleaded  for  an  institution  in  which 
to  train  a  Telugu  Christian  ministry.  As  early  as  March 
9,  1869,  I  closed  a  letter  to  Boston  as  follows; 


THE   IMPACT   OF   WEST   UPON    EAST 

"The  Lord  has  as  yet  sent  us  only  the  poor,  the  ignorant 
of  the  ignorant,  and  the  despised.  But  we  are  satisfied 
for  that  is  God's  plan.  See  I  Cor.  ist  chapter,  Luke  14: 
16-25.  I  write  to  wise  men,  to  men  of  God.  I  need  not 
weaken  my  cause  by  writing  more.  T  close  as  I  began,  cry- 
ing Help !  Help !  Come  over  and  help  us  or  our  very  pros- 
perity will  be  our  ruin." 

Another  year  passed,  and  nothing  was  done.  Indi- 
vidual appeals  to  the  Executive  Committee  for  a  sem- 
inary had  had  no  effect.  We  now  decided  to  move  upon 
them  as  a  conference.  We  were  only  four  men,  but  we 
organized  ourselves  as  an  association  in  March,  1870. 
Dr.  Jewett  was  elected  moderator.  Rev.  John  McLaurin, 
who  had  arrived  a  month  previously,  was  clerk.  Mr. 
Timpany  and  I  were  the  voting  members,  and  we  had 
several  logs  to  roll,  but  our  biggest  log  was  that  sem- 
inary. We  put  it  through. 

"Moved  by  Brother  Clough  and  seconded  by  Brother 
Timpany  that  we  ask  the  Executive  Committee  for  eight 
thousand  rupees  for  a  seminary  and  professor's  house. 
Unanimous. 

"Moved  and  seconded  and  resolved  that  Brother  Clough 
correspond  with  the  Executive  Committee  on  the  subject." 

I  wrote  a  strong  appeal  to  Boston.  It  was  printed 
in  the  Baptist  Missionary  Magazine.  There  was  re- 
sponse. The  money  was  granted,  and  before  we  met 
for  our  second  association  in  March,  1871,  the  buildings 
were  going  up  under  the  superintendence  of  Mr.  Tim- 
pany. Dr.  J.  N.  Murdock,  then  secretary,  wrote  to  me, 
November  17,  1870: 

"The  Lord  is  working  wonders  with  you,  as  of  old.  It  is 
his  doing,  and  we  may  rejoice  in  it  and  magnify  his  name. 


2OO  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN    THE   ORIENT 

If  he  were  not  in  it,  we  should  be  almost  alarmed,  in  view 
of  such  numerous  accessions.  The  question  'How  shall  we 
secure  such  harvests  and  preserve  the  multitude  from 
blight?'  is  often  on  our  lips.  How  often  I  have  said  to 
myself  during  these  last  four  months :  'What  a  pity  we  had 
not  adopted  Clough's  recommendation  two  years  ago  to 
start  a  theological  school  among  these  people.  Then,  in- 
stead of  six  native  helpers,  on  whom  you  can  place  intelli- 
gent reliance,  we  might  have  twenty,  thirty,  or  forty !" 

The  question  was  now  discussed,  both  in  America  and 
among  us  in  India,  whether  I  was  to  be  at  the  head 
of  that  seminary.  I  had  not  fully  recovered  from  an 
attack  of  jungle  fever  two  years  previously  and  it  was 
thought  a  change  of  occupation  might  help  me.  I  found 
that  Mr.  Timpany  judged  my  make-up  correctly.  He 
wrote  to  me:  "You  irrepressible  Brother  Clough  could 
not  screw  yourself  down  to  a  theological  chair  for  six 
months  to  save  your  life."  I  agreed  with  him.  The 
restraint  of  the  classroom  would  have  been  intolerable 
to  me.  I  could  hold  a  preachers'  institute  for  six  weeks 
every  hot  season,  but  beyond  that  I  could  not  confine 
myself. 

A  task  of  a  different  nature  was  now  laid  upon  me. 
We  had  been  pleading  for  reinforcements.  It  was  a 
slow  process  even  to  get  a  hearing.  Our  appeals  were 
laid  before  the  Executive  Committee.  Then  they  were 
published  in  the  denominational  papers.  They  were 
emphasized  during  the  annual  meetings.  The  effort 
lacked  directness.  In  those  days  there  was  only  now 
and  then  a  man  who  felt  that  foreign  missions  had  a 
claim  upon  him  personally.  The  women's  societies  had 
only  recently  been  founded,  with  their  women's  circles 
and  children's  bands,  bringing  missionary  information 
straight  into  the  homes  and  with  it  a  desire  to  help. 
Moreover,  our  constituency  had  not  yet  adjusted  itself 


THE   IMPACT   OF   WEST   UPON    EAST  2OI 

to  the  new  point  of  view  regarding  the  Telugu  Mis- 
sion. It  was  no  longer  a  question  of  abandoning  us 
on  account  of  lack  of  results:  it  was  a  question  what 
to  do  with  the  harvest. 

The  men  on  the  field  came  to  the  conclusion  that  I 
must  go  to  America  and  enlist  four  men  for  the  Telugu 
Mission,  and  get  an  endowment  for  our  seminary.  We 
wanted  at  least  one  hundred  students,  and  we  would 
have  to  furnish  their  support  throughout  their  course. 
It  meant  a  heavy  outlay,  year  after  year,  for  many 
years  to  come.  The  income  of  $50,000  would  put  that 
enterprise  on  a  sound  financial  basis.  I  was  to  go  to 
America  and  secure  this.  Dr.  Murdock  wrote  to  me 
March  u,  1871 : 

"We  have  been  deeply  pained  to  hear  how  precarious 
your  health  is.  On  the  score  of  economy  to  the  service, 
therefore,  your  early  return  to  the  United  States  seems  the 
dictate  of  wisdom.  Besides,  the  most  likely  way  to  secure 
two  or  three  families  for  the  Telugus  would  be  to  come 
here  and  tell  your  story  to  ministers  and  people.  You  might 
be  able  to  find  in  the  great  West  men  likeminded  with  your- 
self who  would  return  to  Ongole  with  you,  perhaps  pre- 
cede you,  to  help  gather  the  harvests  of  the  future  among 
the  Telugus." 

On  the  envelope  containing  this  letter  is  written  in 
my  hand:  "A  bitter  pill  for  me  to  take."  I  did  not 
want  to  go.  Nine  months  longer  I  worked  before  I 
turned  my  face  toward  America. 

A  strenuous  term  of  service  had  come  to  a  close. 
West  and  East  had  met.  The  impact  had  changed  the 
lives  of  hundreds,  yes,  thousands  of  people.  A  new 
standard  of  living  had  been  given  to  the  outcaste  com- 
munity of  that  region.  To  many  Christianity  had 
brought  "not  peace,  but  a  sword."  On  me,  too,  those 


2O2  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN   THE   ORIENT 

years  had  left  their  mark.  I  was  in  a  sense  made  over 
new.  In  many  respects  I  was  not  the  same  man  who 
landed  in  India  seven  years  before. 

My  manner  of  approaching1  the  people  had  changed. 
I  had  learned  their  code  of  politeness.  I  saw  that  when 
the  Hindu  wanted  to  be  courteous,  he  answered  a  ques- 
tion by  a  counter  question.  If  I  asked  a  man,  "How 
large  is  your  family?" — he  replied,  "Are  there  not  ten 
in  my  household  ?"  I  often  conducted  conversation  thus, 
because  I  saw  how  it  satisfied  their  sense  of  fitness.  In 
other  ways  also  I  felt  that  it  was  far  better  that  I  should 
adopt  their  manner  of  being  polite,  rather  than  permit 
them  to  make  up  some  crude  mixture  between  European 
and  Indian  ways  of  dealing.  I  liked  the  salaam  as  a 
greeting — touching  the  fingers  of  the  right  hand  to  the 
forehead,  with  a  wave  of  the  arm.  The  practice  of 
shaking  hands  came  in  slowly.  I  learned  their  ways 
of  showing  hospitality.  Out  in  the  villages,  when  the 
Sudras  combined  .to  show  me  the  courtesy  due  to  a  guest, 
I  took  notice.  I  learned  that  I  must  not  rise  up  and  go 
when  done  with  my  visit.  I  must  ask  first  whether  they 
would  give  me  permission  to  go. 

There  was  a  tendency  always  of  imitating  English 
customs.  The  younger  generation,  after  learning  a  few 
English  words,  thought  they  must  now  adopt  English 
manners.  This  frequently  meant  a  complete  reversal 
of  their  old-time  politeness.  The  danger  was  that  it 
would  set  them  adrift,  omitting  Hindu  courtesies,  yet 
knowing  so  little  of  English  courtesies  that  these  were 
of  slight  service.  In  those  days,  strict  etiquette  was  at- 
tached to  the  use  of  the  sandals.  It  was  the  custom 
for  a  man  to  step  out  of  his  sandals  when  he  approached 
a  religious  teacher.  Sometimes  it  did  young  men  good 
to  be  reminded  that  the  ways  of  their  fathers  were  not 
yet  out  of  date.  They  wanted  also  to  discard  the  turban 


JOHN   E.   CLOUGH    (1873) 

"A  strenuous  term  of  service  had  come  to  a  close.  West  and  East  had 
met.  The  impact  had  changed  the  lives  of  hundreds,  yes,  thousands  of  people. 
A  new  standard  of  living  had  been  given  to  the  oulcastc  community  of  that 
region.  To  many  Christianity  had  brought  'not  peace,  but  a  sword.'  On  me, 
too,  those  years  had  left  thetr  mark.  1  was  in  a  sense  made  over  new.  In 
many  respects  I  was  not  the  same  man  tc/ro  landed  in  India  seven  years 
before." 


THE   IMPACT   OF   WEST   UPON    EAST  203 

and  don  caps  that  were  neither  Hindu  nor  English.  I 
held  out  firmly  against  such  transformations.  So  far 
as  lay  in  my  power,  I  held  our  Christian  community  close 
to  Hindu  customs  and  manners.  Wherever  I  could,  I 
reduced  the  temptation  to  imitate  our  English  customs. 
In  this  I  had  the  trend  of  the  times  against  me.  Those 
who  adopted  the  Christian  religion  adopted  the  ways 
of  the  West  with  it,  more  or  less.  The  group  of  old 
Ongole  preachers  remained  almost  untouched  by  this  ten- 
dency. This  was  one  reason  why  their  hold  upon  the 
village  people  remained  so  firm. 

In  adapting  myself  to  the  ways  of  the  people,  my  sense 
of  humor  had  to  be  turned  into  the  Telugu  channel.  It 
became  one  of  the  most  useful  tools  in  my  equipment. 
I  loved  the  people  and  wanted  to  approach  them  and 
take  away  their  fear  of  me  as  a  white  man.  I  saw  that 
a  bit  of  fun  would  go  a  long  way  in  making  them  feel 
at  home  with  me.  I  got  hold  of  their  ideas  of  the 
ridiculous.  I  saw  that  a  touch  of  sarcasm  might  be 
more  effective  than  a  sermon.  But  it  had  to  be  their 
own  kind,  not  the  American  or  English  kind.  I  learned 
their  intonations  in  making  humorous  remarks.  Some- 
times I  did  a  bit  of  acting  and  mimicry.  There  was  no 
better  introduction  to  the  sermon  that  followed,  when  I 
was  out  in  the  villages  preaching,  than  to  get  the  crowd 
before  me  to  smile  and  nod  their  heads  with  approval; 
for  then  they  became  all  ears  for  that  which  followed. 
For  a  white  man  thus  to  enter  into  their  ways  was  some- 
thing strange  to  them  and  they  were  willing  to  walk 
many  a  mile  to  hear  and  see  for  themselves. 

There  was  one  direction  in  which  I  checked  my  sense 
of  humor.  When  I  began  my  work,  I  made  fun  of  the 
Hindu  gods,  and  thus  tried  to  shake  the  faith  of  the 
people  in  them.  It  did  not  take  me  long  to  see  that  that 
was  not  the  way  to  do.  Some  were  angered  by  it  need- 


2O4  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN   THE   ORIENT 

lessly ;  others  lost  faith  in  their  old  gods  by  what  I  said, 
but  did  not  accept  Jesus  Christ  in  place  of  them,  and 
were  thus  sent  adrift.  I  stopped  that  method.  I  settled 
down  to  telling  the  people,  singly  or  in  groups,  about  the 
Lord  Jesus  and  his  life  and  death,  and  what  he  could 
be  to  them  if  they  would  receive  him.  That  did  the 
work.  When  they  accepted  him,  their  old  idol-worship 
went  at  a  stroke,  and  my  destructive  attempts  were  not 
necessary. 

Wherever  I  found  anything  in  their  simple  lives  that 
could  be  taken  into  service  for  the  spread  of  Christianity, 
I  was  not  slow  to  lay  hold  of  it.  When  I  went  on 
tour  I  used  their  village  customs  to  advertise  me.  In 
every  Madiga  hamlet  there  were  men  who  were  called 
Yetties,  bearing  burdens  over  the  country  for  the  Sudras 
and  Brahmans  in  return  for  a  small  holding  of  land. 
These  Yetties  were  wide  awake,  and  knew  what  was 
going  on  everywhere.  They  were  practically  the  news 
bearers  of  the  community.  Where  newspapers  were  un- 
known, information  had  thus  to  be  carried  from  man 
to  man.  The  Yetties  of  that  whole  region  were  in  my 
service.  When  they  heard  that  I  was  about  to  pass  that 
way,  they  told  everyone.  They  served  as  reporters  also. 
If  anything  important  took  place,  that  web  of  Yetties 
published  it  abroad  as  if  it  had  been  in  a  daily  gazette. 
I  was  on  friendly  terms  with  them,  and  gave  them  an 
occasional  present,  and  charged  them  to  talk  the  truth 
about  me,  and  not  give  out  garbled  accounts.  It  was 
a  great  success  in  the  way  of  advertising.  They  often 
brought  big  crowds  together  for  me  when  I  went 
preaching. 

My  views,  too,  were  affected  by  the  process  of  adapta- 
tion. I  tried  always  to  be  orthodox,  but  there  were 
points  where  Western  and  Eastern  ideas  met,  and  there 
I  was  conciliatory,  and  my  thoughts  ran  in  a  groove 


THE   IMPACT   OF   WEST    UPON    EAST 

with  the  people.  This  was  the  case  with  their  belief  in 
evil  spirits  and  demons.  It  applied  especially  to  cases 
where  the  Christians  of  a  village  found  themselves  fight- 
ing and  separating  into  two  or  more  factions.  They  said 
then  that  some  demons  had  entered  into  them,  and  the 
demons  liked  it  and  would  not  leave.  These  were  their 
old  ideas  of  demonology  for  which  much  of  their  wor- 
ship stood.  They  held  that  the  dead,  who  had  been 
evil  in  life,  were  roaming  close  to  the  earth,  seeking  an 
entry.  They  feared  demons  of  many  kinds  which  had 
to  be  propitiated. 

For  me  to  uproot  these  ideas  would  have  been  a  hope- 
less task.  I  let  them  stand.  When  I  faced  the  fighters 
in  a  village  quarrel,  and  saw  the  women  with  disheveled 
hair  and  angry  eyes,  the  men  sullen  and  unreasonable, 
and  full  of  hatred,  I  said  the  demons  must  come  out  by 
prayer  to  Jesus.  Often  the  two  sides  in  a  viHage  quarrel 
came  walking  many  miles  into  Ongole  to  get  justice 
from  me.  I  saw  that  I  might  talk  for  days  and  not 
settle  their  disputes.  Besides,  there  were  others,  with 
legitimate  requests,  waiting  their  turn,  sitting  under  the 
trees  in  front  of  our  bungalow,  and  they,  too,  had  claim 
on  me.  I  talked  to  those  fighters  in  their  own  language : 
"You  have  swallowed  several  demons  which  must  come 
out  by  prayer.  Go  under  the  big  tree  and  stay  there  till 
they  are  out."  I  sent  preachers  and  village  elders  to 
pray  with  them ;  when  these  were  worn  out,  I  sent  others. 
It  was  the  beautiful  big  tamarind  tree  near  the  baptistery 
in  our  compound.  I  often  sent  people  there  to  pray,  till 
it  grew  a  custom,  no  matter  what  the  special  case  might 
be.  If,  after  a  day  or  two,  they  came  to  me  and  told 
me  in  a  half-hearted  way  that  all  was  right  now,  and 
they  wanted  to  go  home  to  their  villages,  I  could  soon 
tell  whether  it  was  true.  I  said,  "The  demons  are  still 
looking  through  your  eyes,  go  and  cast  them  out  first." 


2O6  SOCIAL    CHRISTIANITY   IN    THE   ORIENT 

It  did  the  work.  They  said,  "What  can  we  do?  Our 
Clough  Dhora  can  see  right  through  our  eyes  what  is 
in  us.  We  might  as  well  give  up." 

Even  in  those  earlier  years  I  was  growing  lax  in 
church  discipline.  It  somehow  did  not  fit  in  well.  In 
the  beginning  I  worked  on  the  pattern  of  the  churches 
in  America,  and  exclusions  then  were  more  frequent  with 
us  than  in  later  years  when  we  numbered  thousands. 
This  was  not  because  I  was  growing  careless;  it  was 
largely  on  principle.  I  found  that  there  was  a  point 
where  church  discipline  and  my  favorite  doctrine  of  "the 
elect"  clashed.  When  I  saw  men  make  crooked  tracks 
in  their  Christian  life,  and  then  finally  die  a  triumphant 
death  with  full  faith  in  Jesus  as  their  Saviour,  I  decided 
that  I  had  better  be  slow  with  that  church  discipline,  lest 
I  be  found  interfering  with  the  designs  of  Jesus  himself. 

There  was  another  point  on  which  I  did  not  hold 
rigidly  to  Western  theology.  In  my  preaching  I  did  not 
dwell  equally  on  the  three  persons  of  the  Trinity.  I 
found  that  the  people  took  up  most  gladly  the  story  of 
our  Lord  Jesus.  There  was  power  in  it.  Experience 
taught  me  that  when  I  met  a  man  out  on  the  road,  or  a 
few  men,  running  from  the  fields  as  they  saw  me  com- 
ing on  horseback,  and  I  told  them  in  five  or  ten  minutes 
from  my  saddle  enough  about  my  Master,  Jesus,  so  that 
if  they  never  heard  more  and  they  believed  this  they 
could  be  saved,  it  was  the  beginning  of  their  conver- 
sion. The  same  was  true  of  crowds,  no  matter  how  big. 
I  talked  about  Jesus  and  I  taught  my  helpers  to  talk 
about  Jesus,  and  there  was  something  wonderful  in  the 
way  in  which  people  took  it.  I  must  have  preached 
hundreds  of  sermons  an  hour  in  length  on  the  text: 
"Come  unto  me  all  ye  that  labor  and  are  heavy  laden, 
and  I  will  give  you  rest."  It  was  always  new. 

Thus  it  came  about  that  we  preached  Jesus  only.    We 


THE   IMPACT    OF   WEST    UPON    EAST  2O7 

prayed  to  our  Father  in  heaven ;  we  spoke  sometimes  of 
the  Holy  Spirit ;  but  it  was  Jesus  who  moved  our  hearts. 
This  led  to  a  charge  of  heterodoxy  against  me  in  the 
early  years.  It  was  at  our  annual  conference,  soon  after 
our  much-needed  theological  seminary  had  been  estab- 
lished. I  had  reluctantly  parted  with  one  of  my  best 
men,  to  assist  as  teacher  in  the  seminary.  He  preached 
the  Telugu  sermon  at  the  Conference.  A  large  number 
of  the  Ongole  preachers  were  there  and  listened.  His 
recent  experience  in  occupying  his  mind  with  doctrinal 
theology  showed  its  results.  He  said  that  we  ought  to 
preach  about  God  the  Father,  and  God  the  Holy  Spirit, 
just  as  we  were  now  preaching  about  God  the  Son.  He 
admonished  the  Ongole  preachers  to  mend  their  ways  in 
this  respect.  I  saw  the  effect  it  was  having  on  them 
and  feared  their  zeal  for  Jesus  might  suffer  a  shock. 
When  the  sermon  was  over,  I  asked  permission  to  speak, 
and  I  held  to  it  that  the  preacher  is  right  in  preaching 
Jesus  only,  because  in  his  name  is  salvation  for  men. 
Then  the  president  of  the  seminary  spoke  and  sided 
against  me,  and  he  laid  the  charge  of  heterodoxy  against 
the  teaching  on  my  field.  I  defended  myself  and  my 
preachers,  for  whose  teaching  I  was  responsible.  This 
ecclesiastical  dispute  remained  unsettled.  I  saw  that  I 
must  be  careful;  for  that  seminary  which  I  worked  so 
hard  to  get  could  easily  become  a  sort  of  tribunal  for  me. 
Those  years  previous  to  the  famine  and  ingathering 
were  prosperous  years  of  steady  increase.  If  we  could 
have  continued  at  that  pace,  there  would  have  been  nor- 
mal growth  and  development.  It  was  good  to  live  in 
those  days.  Things  were  coming  to  pass.  Half  the  time 
we  were  living  in  the  future,  and  having  that  exhilarat- 
ing sense  of  being  in  the  midst  of  making  history — mis- 
sion history.  Perhaps  my  course  might  at  times  have 
become  strenuous  if  Mrs.  Clough  had  not  been  by  my 


2O8  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN   THE   ORIENT 

side,  using  her  English  sensibleness  to  offset  my  some- 
times impulsive  independence.  Some  of  the  older  mis- 
sionaries called  her  "the  balance  wheel  of  the  Ongole 
Mission." 

On  my  long  tours  I  left  her  in  charge  of  the  com- 
pound and  all  that  pertained  to  it.  While  thus  holding 
the  fort,  she  followed  me  all  over  the  district  with 
baskets,  carried  by  coolies,  containing  water  and  bread 
and  supplies,  with  my  mail.  And  she  knew  where  my 
source  of  strength  lay,  and  what  Bible  verses  to  quote 
to  me  when  I  stood  in  need  of  encouragement.  All 
through  my  missionary  career  there  was  one  verse  that 
carried  me  farthest.  It  was:  "Be  still  and  know  that  I 
am  God;  I  will  be  exalted  among  the  heathen!"  On 
at  least  one  occasion  this  verse  was  brought  home  to  me 
with  peculiar  force. 

Away  off  in  the  direction  of  Cumbum,  during  one  of 
my  early  long  tours,  I  was  tempted  one  day  to  shake 
the  dust  off  my  feet  and  go.  My  helpers  and  I  had 
camped  in  a  new  place,  and  had  been  trying  hard  to 
get  the  people  to  come  and  listen  to  the  gospel,  but  they 
would  not.  I  concluded  that  it  was  a  hard  place,  and 
told  my  staff  of  workers  that  we  were  justified  in 
leaving  it  alone  and  moving  on  elsewhere.  Toward  noon 
I  went  into  my  tent,  closed  down  the  sides,  let  the  little 
tent  punkah  swing  over  my  head  and  rested,  preparatory 
to  starting  off  for  the  next  place.  Soon  I  began  to  hear 
the  hum  of  many  voices.  But  I  took  no  special  notice 
because  I  had  given  up  the  place.  Just  then  a  basket 
with  supplies  was  brought  to  my  tent  by  a  coolie,  all  the 
way  from  Ongole,  who  had  walked  seventy  miles  with 
the  basket  on  his  head.  In  the  accompanying  letter, 
Mrs.  Clough  quoted  my  favorite  verse  to  me.  "Be  still, 
and  know  that  I  am  God."  While  reading  this,  some 
of  the  preachers  put  their  heads  into  the  tent  and  said, 


THE   IMPACT   OF   WEST   UPON   EAST  2OO, 

"Sir,  there  is  a  big  crowd  out  here ;  the  grove  is  full ;  all 
are  waiting  for  you.  Please  come  out."  Times  of 
spiritual  consolation  like  this  came  to  me  often,  and  I 
always  took  them  as  being  sent  by  Jesus  himself. 

Take  it  altogether,  those  first  seven  years  were  the 
happiest  in  my  missionary  career.  They  brought  me  a 
full  share  of  troubles,  of  hard  work  and  of  narrow  es- 
capes with  my  life.  But  on  the  other  hand,  I  found 
great  joy  in  preaching  Jesus,  and  while  I  tried  to  follow 
as  he  led,  I  was  often  amazed  at  the  marvels  which  he 
was  working.  Sometimes  they  went  beyond  my  under- 
standing and  I  rejoiced  with  trembling.  Perhaps  at 
those  times  I  touched  the  highest  point  possible  in  mis- 
sionary experience. 


XIII 

REINFORCEMENTS 

THE  night  before  we  left  Ongole,  January  24,  1872, 
to  start  on  our  journey  to  America,  was  a  decisive  time. 
The  depths  of  feeling  were  stirred.  About  five  hundred 
representatives  from  Christian  villages,  who  had  come 
to  Ongole  to  say  good-by  to  us,  refused  to  let  us  go. 
It  was  near  midnight,  yet  they  would  not  give  up: 
their  courage  failed  them.  They  urged :  "Do  not  leave 
us!  Stay  with  us.  Do  not  go  to  America!"  Those 
nearest  in  the  crowd  clung  to  my  feet.  They  pressed 
upon  me  on  every  side,  trying  to  hold  me.  In  a  few 
short  years  they  had  taken  strides  in  a  new  life;  they 
did  not  see  how  they  could  continue  in  this  without  us; 
they  could  not  bear  the  prospect  of  going  back  to  their 
old  life. 

I  saw  that  I  must  make  them  see  clearly  once  more 
the  motive  for  our  going,  and  must  give  them  some 
kind  of  partnership  in  it,  or  else  the  consequences  might 
be  serious.  I  had  told  them  the  reasons  for  our  going 
many  times  before.  Now  I  called  upon  them  all  to  be 
silent  and  listen  carefully,  that  I  might  open  my  heart 
to  them. 

I  said  to  them,  "Do  you  remember  when  I  was  at 
your  village  that  you  asked  me  to  come  again  soon,  and 
I  told  you  that  I  could  not;  that  I  had  one  hundred  and 
ninety  villages  to  visit  before  I  could  see  you  again?" 
"Yes,  yes." 

2IO 


REENFORCEMENTS  211 

"And  do  you  remember  that  you  begged  me  to  send 
you  a  preacher  and  I  told  you  I  could  not,  for  we  had 
but  eighteen,  and  they,  too,  must  be  scattered  through 
all  these  one  hundred  and  ninety  villages?  And  that 
finally,  when  you  followed  me  out  of  the  village  begging 
me  to  come,  or  send  a  preacher  or  teacher,  I  could  do 
nothing  but  shut  out  your  prayers  and  gallop  along?" 

They  said,  "Yes,  we  remember." 

"And  now  you  know  that  I  am  worn  out  with  work; 
that  unless  I  can  rest,  I  shall  soon  not  be  able  to  visit 
you  at  all.  You  know,  too,  that  we  must  have  four  new 
missionaries,  and  a  theological  seminary  to  train 
preachers  who  can  stay  with  you  all  the  time;  and  that 
I  must  go  to  America  and  get  the  men  and  the  money." 

Now  they  begged,  "Go  quick  and  come  quick;  go 
quick,  and  come  quick." 

A  different  spirit  had  come  over  them.  Now  was  my 
opportunity  to  lay  upon  them  the  responsibility  of  part- 
nership. I  said  to  them:  "When  we  are  gone,  will  you 
pray  every  day  that  God  will  restore  our  health,  and 
that  he  will  send  the  four  new  missionaries,  and  also  the 
money  for  the  seminary?"  Enthusiastically  they  agreed. 
They  believed  in  prayer.  They  saw  that  they  would  be 
instrumental  in  bringing  us  back  soon.  Thus  we  parted 
that  night. 

When  we  left  Ongole,  Dr.  McLaurin,  with  Mrs.  Mc- 
Laurin,  took  charge  of  the  field.  They  were  facing  a 
difficult  situation,  which  required  patience  and  firmness 
and  kindness.  During  the  previous  year  Dr.  McLaurin 
had  gone  with  me  on  several  long  tours  which  practically 
covered  the  field.  I  introduced  him  everywhere  to  the 
Christians  and  to  the  caste  people,  as  one  whom  they 
could  trust.  He  assisted  me  in  talking  to  the  people,  as 
he  already  had  some  knowledge  of  the  Telugu.  I  asked 
him  to  baptize  the  converts  during  these  tours.  This 


212  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN   THE   ORIENT 

was  almost  a  necessity  in  order  to  convince  the  preachers 
that  those  who  were  baptized  by  Dr.  McLaurin  were 
admitted  into  the  church  on  the  same  footing  as  those 
baptized  by  me. 

When  now  the  people  realized  that  we  were  gone, 
some  began  again  to  murmur.  In  their  enthusiasm  on 
that  last  night,  they  told  us  to  go  quickly  and  come 
quickly.  But  now  they  had  the  grim  reality  before 
them.  They  were  to  go  back  to  their  fields.  The  caste 
people  everywhere  would  ask  them,  "Where  now  is  your 
Guru?  Has  he  taken  none  of  his  disciples  with  him? 
Now  will  you  work  on  Sunday?  Will  you  let  your 
juttus  grow?"  Their  economic  relations  had  been 
changed  to  such  a  degree  that  now,  with  me  dropped  out 
of  their  lives  for  a  time,  the  foundations  were  tottering 
under  their  feet.  Dr.  McLaurin  wrote  to  me,  a  day  or 
two  after  our  departure,  that  discontent  had  broken  out 
into  open  rebellion.  He  wanted  me  to  cope  with  this 
before  I  left  the  country. 

I  wrote  him  to  send  several  of  the  leading  preachers 
to  Madras  to  be  with  us  there  till  we  sailed.  It  meant 
expense,  for  I  could  not  ask  the  men  to  walk  nearly  two 
hundred  miles.  They  came  in  bullock  carts,  and  were 
my  guests  in  Madras  in  their  humble  way.  I  saw  what 
was  required.  When  the  steamer  was  in  the  harbor, 
I  obtained  permission  to  take  these  men  on  board.  I 
showed  them  our  cabin,  with  our  luggage  already  in  it. 
I  showed  them  the  saloon,  where  we  would  eat.  It  was 
a  great  thing  to  them;  for  it  brought  that  whole  story 
about  our  going  to  America  down  from  the  region  of 
myths  and  made  it  a  practical  fact.  After  we  came  back 
on  shore,  I  sat  down  with  them  and  impressed  on  their 
minds  what  they  were  to  tell  the  Christians,  and  how 
to  answer  the  caste  people.  They  now  had  a  big  story 
to  tell.  No  one  in  all  that  region  had  seen  what  I  ob- 


REINFORCEMENTS  213 

tained  permission  to  show  to  them:  the  way  in  which 
white  men  cross  the  ocean.  I  charged  them  to  tell 
everyone  on  the  field  that  as  the  first  part  of  my  story 
was  true,  they  might  believe  the  second  part:  we  were 
coming  back  on  a  ship  from  America.  It  changed  the 
face  of  the  whole  situation.  They  went  back  and  were 
busy  several  months  telling  everywhere  what  they  had 
seen.  The  panic  passed.  Dr.  McLaurin  now  found 
these  men  earnest,  willing  fellow-workers. 

It  drew  heavily  on  my  faith  at  that  time  to  look  back 
and  also  to  look  ahead.  The  first  break  was  now  to 
come  into  our  family  circle.  We  had  four  children :  our 
son,  Allen,  our  daughters,  Nellora  and  Ongola,  named 
after  the  two  mission  stations,  and  their  little  brother, 
Warren.  When  we  returned  to  India,  our  youngest 
daughter,  Gratia,  was  born,  but  the  two  eldest  had  been 
left  behind  in  America.  Our  family  circle  was  never 
again  complete. 

My  health  was  much  impaired.  Jungle  fever  was  in 
my  system.  It  was  a  question  how  long  this  would  hold 
me  in  its  grip.  I  wanted  to  be  back  in  my  place  in  India, 
yet  I  had  agreed  to  do  a  strenuous  stroke  of  work  in 
America.  I  was  wholly  uncertain  how  I  would  be  re- 
ceived when  I  made  my  request  known  to  the  churches. 
During  five  years  I  had  received  nearly  1,700  people  into 
membership,  all  as  poor  and  ignorant  as  could  be.  I  had 
not  organized  them  into  churches.  It  weighed  on  my 
mind  that  I  had  not  been  able  to  bring  those  converts 
into  conformity  with  the  home  churches.  How  would 
the  pastors  and  leading  members  of  our  churches  view 
this?  It  was  a  problem  how  to  give  my  call  for  help 
a  form  that  would  appeal  to  the  home  constituency.  My 
case  was  unusual.  The  mission  to  which  I  belonged  was 
not  popular.  If  I  failed,  it  would  not  be  surprising. 

I  was  not  even  certain  of  the  men  at  our  mission 


214  SOCIAL  CHRISTIANITY  IN  THE  ORIENT 

rooms  in  Boston.  They  had  never  interfered  with  me 
or  poured  cold  water  upon  me — not  a  drop.  Still,  there 
was  a  note  of  anxiety  sometimes  in  their  letters,  which 
did  not  escape  me.  Their  position  was  that  if  this 
work  was  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  then  no  man  had  the  right 
to  question  it.  Those  men  at  the  head  of  our  society 
were  the  trustees  of  our  denomination,  and  stood  for 
its  principles.  If  ever  Baptist  democratic  principles  were 
applied  to  the  uttermost,  it  was  done  in  my  case.  Half- 
way round  the  world,  hidden  in  the  jungle,  no  man 
over  me  to  control  me,  I  was  receiving  the  people,  hun- 
dreds at  a  time,  and  was  calling  them  Baptists,  and 
looked  to  the  denomination  in  America  to  ratify  what 
I  had  done  by  furnishing  the  means  to  establish  them 
in  the  faith.  Dr.  Warren  wrote  me  a  letter  after  the 
tidings  had  reached  America  that  more  than  six  hundred 
had  been  added  to  our  membership  during  1869.  It  gave 
me  courage.  I  saw  that  I  had  the  brethren  with  me. 
It  also  held  me  to  a  careful,  cautious  proceeding.  He 
stated  to  me  the  New  Testament  principles  to  which 
I  must  consider  myself  bound.  He  wrote  March  25, 
1870: 

"I  took  your  letter  to  the  Committee  and  read  it  to  them 
entire.  They  are  all  impressed  deeply  by  the  wonders  God 
is  doing  in  connection  with  your  labors  among  the  Telugus. 
One  member  remarked  that  we  had  seen  nothing  so  pente- 
costal  since  the  incoming  of  the  Karens  thirty  years  ago, 
and  feel  that  we  ought  to  thank  God  and  take  courage. 

"At  the  same  time,  all  seem  to  be  aware  that  an  increased 
responsibility  is  thrown  upon  you,  upon  ourselves,  and 
upon  the  Baptist  churches  of  this  country.  These  bap- 
tized Telugus  are  all  at  the  best  but  so  many  infants,  need- 
ing a  world  of  care,  watching,  sympathy,  and  instruction. 
To  save  them  to  themselves  and  make  them  a  blessing  to 
others  they  must  be  trained,  and  for  this  they  must  have 


REENFORCEMENTS  21$ 

teachers,  preachers,  colporters  and  all  Christian  appliances. 
Every  group  should  have  a  guide,  churches  should  be 
formed,  pastors  given,  chapels  and  schoolhouses  erected. 
There  is  no  end  to  the  work  that  lies  out  before  you,  and 
before  ourselves.  We  cannot  turn  away  from  it  and  be 
guiltless.  God  help  us  to  see  and  do  our  duty.  .  .  . 

"While  I  would  not  advise  you  to  baptize  any  who  do  not 
give  evidence  of  piety,  while  some  indeed  might  advise  cau- 
tion in  admitting  people  so  ignorant  to  membership  in  the 
church  of  Christ,  I  would  unhesitatingly  say  to  you,  Go  in 
on  the  tide,  'cast  the  net  into  the  sea  and  gather  of  every 
kind,'  and  'when  it  is  full,  draw  it  to  the  shore  and  sit 
down  and  gather  the  good  into  vessels  and  cast  the  bad 
away.'  Do  not  refuse  to  put  down  the  net  because  you 
may  gather  the  bad  with  the  good.  If  you  do,  you  will 
gather  nothing,  either  good  or  bad.  From  the  very  nature 
of  the  case,  there  must  be  some  uncertainty,  a  good  deal 
in  fact,  in  reference  to  what  you  shall  enclose  in  your  net. 
With  that  uncertainty  fully  in  view  go  forward  in  obedience 
to  the  instructions  of  the  Master,  who  understood  perfectly 
this  whole  business,  and  cast  the  gospel  net.  There  is  im- 
mense advantage  in  getting  a  mass  of  people  within  the 
circle  of  your  influence  and  under  your  control.  That,  to 
my  mind,  is  the  great  idea  at  the  bottom  of  the  Saviour's 
teachings.  Then  you  have  something  to  work  on,  and  some- 
thing to  work  with,  both  material  and  implements.  I  have 
all  confidence  in  you,  for,  while  I  see  you  are  disposed  to 
push  things  forward,  you  seem  to  understand  and  realize  in 
whom  your  strength  is.  May  Christ  Jesus  supply  all  your 
needs." 


An  incident  occurred  while  we  were  in  London,  wait- 
ing for  our  Atlantic  steamer,  which  had  a  strong  effect 
on  me  in  giving  me  a  hopeful  spirit.  We  went  to  the 
Baptist  Tabernacle  to  hear  Rev.  C.  H.  Spurgeon,  whose 
fame  as  a  preacher  in  those  days  had  gone  the  world 
over.  After  the  sermon  I  called  on  him.  One  of  the 


2l6  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN    THE    ORIENT 

officers  of  the  church  stood  by,  and  when  I  was  leaving, 
he  went  with  me.  He  asked  me  what  I  intended  to  do. 
I  told  him  about  the  $50,000  for  the  seminary.  He 
hesitated  a  little,  as  if  under  some  impression  which  he 
himself  could  not  define.  Then  he  said,  "If  you  stay 
here  in  London,  you  can  get  that  money  in  two  months." 
I  told  him  I  could  not  stay.  He  said,  "I  want  a  hand 
in  that  affair."  He  took  out  his  purse,  emptied  the  con- 
tents into  my  hand,  gave  me  his  card,  and  asked  me  to 
write  to  him.  I  told  him  I  was  not  collecting  money 
yet.  He  said,  "Never  mind,  keep  that  and  write  to  me 
of  your  success."  Somehow  this  encouraged  me  won- 
derfully. The  man  acted  as  if  I  were  bound  to  get  that 
money,  no  matter  how  or  where. 

We  reached  America,  and  I  went  to  Boston  and  met 
the  Executive  Committee.  They  knew  what  my  inten- 
tions were,  for  my  task  had  been  laid  upon  me  by  the 
association  of  our  Telugu  Mission,  and  had  been  duly 
reported  to  them.  They  received  me  in  all  kindness,  but 
told  me  I  must  give  up  my  project.  There  was  a  man 
recently  who  wanted  $10,000  for  something,  and  after 
working  six  months,  had  collected  only  $1,000  together. 
Besides,  a  special  project  of  that  size  would  interfere 
with  the  usual  receipts  of  the  society.  They  said :  "It 
cannot  be  done.  Give  that  up."  This  order  was  so  em- 
phatic, I  had  to  yield.  Deeply  disappointed,  I  went  my 
way.  With  my  family  I  settled  in  Strawberry  Point, 
Iowa,  in  my  old  home. 

The  Baptists  in  Iowa  and  Illinois  now  became  aware 
of  the  fact  that  we  were  back.  They  had  stood  by  us 
nobly  with  their  support  during  eight  years,  and  now 
wanted  me  to  come  and  tell  them  all  about  it.  I  was 
growing  strong;  Iowa  was  taking  the  jungle  fever  out 
of  my  system.  This  was  my  old  tramping  ground.  I 
began  to  go  visiting  churches  and  conventions.  The 


REINFORCEMENTS  21  / 

people  wanted  to  do  something;  public  opinion  was  tak- 
ing hold  of  that  seminary  project,  though  I  held  back. 
At  an  association  in  Iowa  I  told  them  the  story  of  that 
Christian  community  out  in  India  who  needed  an  institu- 
tion to  train  their  ministry.  I  told  the  brethren  that 
I  was  not  allowed  to  solicit  funds  for  .this  purpose,  and 
that  I  now  was  not  asking  anything.  I  was  only  stating 
what  I  and  the  whole  Telugu  Mission  wanted.  Then 
one  of  the  leading  men  rose  up  and  said,  "I  move  we 
indorse  this  project,  and  that  we  give  the  brethren  oppor- 
tunity to  subscribe."  Money  began  to  pour  in  upon  me. 
Before  I  had  asked  for  so  much  as  a  single  dollar,  money 
and  pledges  were  in  my  hands  amounting  to  $5,000. 

I  wrote  to  Boston.  Several  men  in  the  West  were  in 
favor  of  letting  that  seminary  endowment  come  out  of 
the  Middle  West.  There  was  correspondence,  back  and 
forth.  Meanwhile  the  money  was  coming  in  a  steady 
stream.  Five  months  after  landing  in  America  I  re- 
ceived official  permission  to  raise  that  $50,000.  Then  I 
went  to  work  in  earnest.  I  traveled  from  city  to  city, 
from  church  to  church.  A  spirit  of  giving  was  abroad, 
from  large  sums  given  by  wealthy  men  and  women  down 
to  the  mite  boxes  of  children,  who  invariably  emptied 
them  for  the  Telugu  seminary  if  their  parents  permitted. 
On  the  day  when  the  great  financial  panic  began,  Sep- 
tember 22,  1873,  my  task  was  accomplished.  It  was 
a  question  then  whether  the  panic  would  affect  the 
pledges  still  outstanding.  It  did.  There  was  consid- 
erable shrinkage.  But  the  amount  secured  was  large, 
and  the  financial  future  of  our  Telugu  seminary  was 
assured. 

It  had  been  laid  upon  me  to  find  four  men  for  the 
Telugus.  The  fact  is,  the  money  came  faster  than  the 
men.  When  I  had  the  endowment  well  in  sight,  and  had 
no  further  misgivings  about  that,  I  was  still  looking  for 


2l8  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN   THE   ORIENT 

the  men.  Twenty  years  later  I  enlisted  twenty-five  men 
for  the  Telugu  Mission.  The  Student  Volunteer  Move- 
ment had  done  the  preliminary  work.  I  found  it  easier 
at  that  time  to  get  the  twenty-five  than  I  did  now  to  get 
the  four.  In  March,  1873,  I  made  an  appeal  to  the 
pastors  and  theological  students  through  the  denomina- 
tional press.  After  setting  forth  the  needs  and  the  invit- 
ing nature  of  the  field,  I  closed  my  appeal  thus: 

"I  have  been  in  the  United  States  ten  months.  I  have 
traveled  thousands  of  miles  and  have  attended  the  Anniver- 
saries in  New  York,  four  state  conventions,  many  associa- 
tions and  missionary  meetings,  and  have,  in  behalf  of  the 
missionaries  and  native  brethren,  invited  scores  of  pastors 
and  ministerial  students  to  come  over  and  help  us.  But  shall 
I  write  it?  Only  one  has  responded  unreservedly  to  the 
Macedonian  call. 

"I  wish  to  return  to  Hindustan  in  September.  Will  four 
of  you  go  before  me,  or  go  with  me?  You  must,  dear 
brethren.  For  how  can  I  go  back  and  tell  those  one  hun- 
dred ministerial  students  that  I  can  get  no  teachers  for 
them?  Can  I  tell  the  three  thousand  native  Christians  that 
their  prayers  are  unheard — that  of  the  twelve  thousand 
Baptist  preachers  in  America  none  will  come  to  be  their 
spiritual  guides,  and  that  they  and  their  children  must  live 
on  in  ignorance?  Must  the  multitudes  of  heathen  under- 
stand that  Christians  believe  that  they  will  be  eternally 
lost,  but  that  none  will  come  to  warn  and  teach  them? 
And  must  I  say  to  those  overworked  faithful  missionaries 
that — no,  I  cannot,  I  will  not.  The  men  are  in  the  United 
States  and  will  come.  I  believe  it  with  all  my  heart.  Please 
send  on  your  names  soon.  We  want  to  know  who  you  are, 
and  God  and  the  Telugus  will  bless  you." 

The  four  men  came.  And  they  were  men  who  proved 
themselves  of  unusual  strength.  In  one  of  our  conversa- 
tions, Dr.  Warren  said  to  me:  "You  know,  Brother 


REINFORCEMENTS  219 

Clough,  it  takes  faith  to  send  out  men.  Out  of  every 
three  whom  we  send,  one  falls  sick,  or  to  say  the  truth, 
gets  homesick  and  soon  returns;  one  hangs  on  year 
after  year  and  does  practically  nothing;  and  the  third, 
sticks  and  accomplishes  what  he  is  sent  to  do.  In  order 
to  get  this  third  man  we  are  all  at  work."  But  this  was 
not  the  case  with  the  four  men  who  came  out  to  the 
Telugus  that  year.  Each  one  of  them  put  in  at  least 
ten  years  of  excellent  service,  and  one  of  them  remains 
to  the  present  time. 

My  search  for  men  and  money  had  an  effect  in  several 
ways.  It  took  me  into  the  theological  seminaries  and 
I  used  my  opportunity  with  the  students.  Even  though 
they  did  not  come,  it  made  a  difference  to  them  after- 
wards as  pastors.  In  traveling  about,  addressing 
churches,  I  was  entertained  in  many  homes.  If  I  saw 
bright  boys  and  girls,  I  told  them  to  get  a  good  educa- 
tion and  then  come  to  the  Telugus.  They  never  forgot  it. 
It  remained  as  a  story  told  in  that  family  circle,  and 
made  every  member  feel  as  if  some  personal  obligation 
rested  upon  them.  I  established  contacts  between  East 
and  West  in  this  way  in  great  numbers.  The  Telugu 
Mission  began  to  live  in  the  homes  of  American  people. 
Those  boys  and  girls  whom  I  invited  were  men  and 
women  when  I  came  to  America  again. 

I  became  acquainted  with  many  pastors  of  churches, 
especially  in  the  Middle  West.  They  seemed  to  give 
no  thought  to  the  burden  I  had  laid  upon  the  churches; 
all  they  wanted  to  know  was  what  they  could  do  to 
help.  They  said  :  "That  work  is  of  God."  When  I  heard 
of  some  young  pastor,  marked  for  missionary  zeal,  I 
traveled  miles  out  of  my  way  to  talk  with  that  man. 
Some  of  them  were  heard  from  afterwards.  One  cold 
winter  day  I  knocked  at  the  door  of  a  parsonage  in 
Illinois.  I  asked  the  man  who  opened  it,  "Does  the 


22O  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN   THE   ORIENT 

Reverend  Henry  C.  Mabie  live  here?"  He  replied,  "I 
am  the  man."  I  said,  "I  have  come  to  see  whether  I 
can  get  you  to  go  to  the  Telugus  with  me."  He  smiled; 
for  he  knew  me  then.  He  said,  "Come  out  of  that  snow 
into  the  house  and  we  will  talk  it  over."  He  was  the 
nephew  of  Deacon  Giles  Mabie  with  whom  I  traveled 
over  the  prairie,  long  ago,  when  I  was  a  colporter.  He 
had  heard  his  uncle  talk  about  me  ever  since.  I  stayed 
in  that  parsonage  two  weeks.  It  is  said  that  before  I 
sailed  for  India  I  told  the  men  at  the  mission  rooms : 
"There  is  a  fellow,  named  Mabie,  out  in  Illinois.  I 
want  you  to  keep  your  eye  on  him  and  get  him  for  the 
Telugus.  I  want  him."  He  came  afterwards,  though 
not  as  a  missionary,  when  twenty  years  had  passed  by, 
and  a  great  change  had  come. 

I  was  invited  to  associations  often,  and  was  the  one 
whom  the  pastors  wanted  to  hear.  They  set  aside  those 
whom  they  always  had  with  them,  in  order  to  listen  to 
me.  Missionaries  were  still  few  in  those  days.  Asia 
was  far  away.  My  stories  about  the  common  every- 
day life  of  the  Telugu  people  were  wanted — the  more 
unusual  and  unheard-of  the  better.  At  some  associa- 
tion, after  supper  had  been  served  in  the  church  parlors, 
I  was  telling  pastors  and  laymen  about  our  preachers, 
how  tirelessly  they  went  from  village  to  village.  There 
was  one  drawback,  however,  that  could  cripple  them,  so 
that  they  could  not  walk  for  months.  Now  and  then 
stagnant  water  by  the  roadside  was  infested  with  the 
Guinea  worm,  which  fastens  on  the  feet  and  burrows 
under  the  skin,  working  its  way  up  to  the  knee.  I  was 
describing  with  graphic  detail  the  crude  way  employed 
by  the  people,  of  winding  the  worm  on  a  small  stick,  an 
inch  a  day,  until  its  full  length  is  removed.  All  were 
giving  breathless  attention.  Dr.  C.  F.  Tolman,  one  of 
our  district  secretaries  in  Chicago,  sat  there  listening. 


REINFORCEMENTS  221 

Suddenly  he  broke  in  upon  us :  "There,  I  cannot  go  with 
you  on  that.  I  have  traveled  with  you  for  months,  and 
have  stood  by  you,  though  you  told  some  pretty  tall 
stories.  But  I  cannot  go  this  one."  There  was  a  roar 
of  laughter,  and  all  of  it  against  me.  I  had  to  subside. 

During  that  brief  sojourn  in  America  I  turned  the 
interest  of  many  people  to  the  Telugus,  and  I  also  made 
many  personal  friends.  I  wish  I  could  speak  of  them  all ; 
most  of  them  have  gone  to  the  better  land.  My  thoughts 
turn  to  Dr.  A.  H.  Burlingham,  at  that  time  pastor  in 
St.  Louis,  and  a  prominent  figure  in  the  denomination. 
He  invited  me  to  his  home ;  his  church  did  nobly  for  the 
Telugus.  When  I  came  to  America  the  second  time  he 
was  district  secretary  for  our  society  in  New  York.  He 
was  a  man  of  tall,  commanding  personality.  I  felt  it 
fitting  to  call  myself  his  "Boy  Friday"  whenever  I  was  in 
New  York  following  calls  here  and  there  for  public  ad- 
dresses. Every  morning  I  asked  him  what  he  wanted 
me  to  do,  and  played  the  role  of  "Boy  Friday."  The  old 
doctor  took  this  in  very  good  humor,  and  retaliated  by 
telling  everyone  that  when  I  was  in  New  York  I  was 
head  of  his  office,  and  that  he,  for  the  time  being,  was  a 
mere  figurehead. 

As  I  came  and  went  in  Chicago  I  often  saw  Dr.  Os- 
good,  the  man  who,  fourteen  years  before,  brought  me 
the  call  to  my  life's  service.  He  had  come  to  a  beautiful 
old  age,  a  benediction  to  all  who  came  in  contact  with 
him.  He  followed  me  with  a  deep  interest  which  was  a 
source  of  spiritual  strength  to  me.  Then  there  was  Dr. 
Warren,  to  whom  my  heart  always  went  out.  I  was  his 
man  in  a  peculiar  sense.  Ill-health  had  come  upon  him. 
Our  official  relations  had  ceased.  It  made  no  difference 
to  us.  The  allegiance  I  gave  him  remained  the  same. 
The  spiritual  support  he  gave  me  was  unwavering. 

My  mother's  heart  was  satisfied  by  our  presence  so 


222  SOCIAL    CHRISTIANITY   IN    THE   ORIENT 

close  to  her.  But  she  had  to  let  me  go  back.  Another 
ordeal  was  before  her.  My  sister  Vina  was  going  to 
India  as  the  wife  of  one  of  the  new  men.  She  was  the 
one  who  had  always  stayed  with  mother,  and  cared  for 
her.  Mrs.  Clough  and  I  had  aching  hearts  as  we  made 
arrangements  to  provide  a  home  for  our  eldest  son  and 
daughter,  who  had  to  be  left  behind.  In  our  family 
relations  we  were  suffering  deeply,  but  the  cause  was 
prospering. 

The  denomination  had  now  ceased  to  look  upon  the 
Telugu  Mission  as  a  "forlorn  hope."  By  faith  the  men 
of  those  days  had  kept  it  alive.  The  call  upon  them  now 
had  been  of  a  different  order.  They  had  risen  to  meet 
it.  They  gave  all  I  asked.  Had  I  asked  more  they  would 
not  have  withheld  it.  They  let  me  know  in  every  way 
that  "the  brethren  were  with  me."  Once  more  it  was 
like  New  Testament  times,  when  the  church  at  Jerusalem 
sent  out  men  to  convert  the  Gentiles  to  faith  in  Jesus 
Christ.  We  sailed  from  New  York  November  15,  1873. 


XIV 

MARKING    MISSION    BOUNDARIES 

WITH  fresh  vigor  and  determination  we  took  up  our 
work  again  in  Ongole  January  31,  1874.  The  Christians 
told  us  they  had  prayed  for  us  every  day  while  we  were 
gone,  as  they  had  promised  to  do.  They  were  full  of  joy, 
for  they  realized  that  an  element  of  stability  had  now 
entered  into  the  mission.  With  so  much  reenforcement 
the  foundations  of  their  new  life  seemed  secure.  The 
caste  people  were  powerful,  but  so  was  our  mission.  They 
felt  the  Lord  Jesus  had  done  this  for  them. 

There  had  been  a  steady  increase  while  I  was  gone. 
Dr.  McLaurin  had  taken  hold  of  the  situation.  My  meth- 
ods, which  he  watched  carefully  when  touring  with  me 
previous  to  my  furlough,  seemed  right  to  him  and  he 
adhered  to  them.  The  staff  of  workers  had  become  his 
loyal  helpers,  and  he  combined  his  zeal  with  theirs. 
Never  afterward  did  he  cease  to  love  the  old  Ongole 
preachers.  He  had  come  in  touch  with  the  spiritual  life 
in  those  men,  and  had  learned  to  prize  it.  They  con- 
tinued in  their  work  just  as  before,  with  whole  villages 
under  instruction,  people  everywhere  asking  about  the 
new  religion.  In  the  three  northern  taluks  several 
preachers  had  been  laboring  abundantly.  From  that 
direction  also  the  converts  now  pressed  in.  Calls  came 
from  all  parts  of  the  field  for  Dr.  McLaurin's  presence. 
He  went  on  long  tours.  The  result  was  that  during  the 

223 


224  SOCIAL    CHRISTIANITY    IN    THE    ORIENT 

two  years  of  my  absence  he  baptized  more  than  one  thou- 
sand. 

The  increase  then  ceased.  During  two  years  after 
my  return  we  received  the  people  in  tens ;  there  were  no 
hundreds.  Then  the  famine  began,  and  it  was  under- 
stood that  no  one  would  be  received.  Thus  when  the 
ingathering  came,  with  its  nine  thousand  in  six  weeks, 
there  had  been  four  years  of  comparatively  few  acces- 
sions. There  was  a  definite  reason  for  this  seeming 
standstill,  so  far  as  numbers  were  concerned.  The  move- 
ment, as  it  swept  over  the  Madiga  community,  had  picked 
up  the  best  first — those  who  were  ready  to  respond  to 
the  Christian  appeal.  The  leaders  had  made  the  begin- 
ning. Then  those  followed  who  had  been  under  their 
direct  influence.  Then  came  the  wider  circle  of  those 
with  whom  there  were  ties  of  family  relationship.  If  it 
was  within  the  memory  of  anyone  that  at  some  time  a 
marriage  had  been  contracted  between  two  families,  it 
constituted  a  claim.  Tribal  clannishness  appeared  in 
this  form.  Afterward  when  the  old  leaders  were  asked 
what  their  motive  was  for  going  to  villages  remote  from 
Ongole,  winning  people  over  to  the  new  religion,  they 
generally  replied  that  there  was  a  family  there,  distantly 
related,  which  had  to  be  told  about  the  change  that  was 
coming  over  them  all.  Those  related  families  again  had 
branches  of  their  own.  The  appeal,  carried  along  with 
the  impetus  of  clannish,  tribal  life,  moved  like  an  ava- 
lanche, gathering  up  as  it  went  along.  But  a  limit  had 
now  been  reached. 

We  had  been  at  work  seven  years.  Those  of  the  Madi- 
gas  who  had  been  adherents  of  the  Yogi  Nasriah  had 
mostly  come  over  to  us.  We  had  absorbed  the  strength 
of  that  movement  so  far  as  it  concerned  the  Madigas. 
Those  who  had  belonged  to  the  Ramanuja  sect  also  had 
come.  It  was  safe  to  say  that  all  who  had  taken  the 


MARKING    MISSION   BOUNDARIES  225 

first  step  out  of  the  common  village  worship  previous 
to  our  coming1  were  with  us  by  this  time.  They  were  at- 
tracted to  the  Christian  religion  and  could  not  stay  away. 
Many  of  those  early  members  of  our  church  had  distinct 
religious  experience  back  of  them.  They  had  taken  one 
step  after  another,  and  knew  why  they  had  taken  them. 
Then  they  had  borne  the  first  shock  between  the  old  life 
and  the  new.  They  had  participated  in  a  social  uprising 
and  had  suffered  in  a  cause.  The  village  elders  of  those 
first  years  were  afterward  a  host.  The  women  had  some- 
thing of  strength  about  them  that  marked  a  number  of 
them  as  Bible  women.  In  later  years  the  older  Chris- 
tians felt  a  certain  justifiable  pride  when  they  could  say, 
"I  joined  the  mission  before  the  famine." 

This  nucleus  of  three  thousand  Christians  on  the  On- 
gole  field  was  now  hard  at  work  among  those  who  were 
still  engaged  in  the  worship  of  demons  and  serpents  and 
female  deities.  They  were  bound  to  succeed,  even  though 
the  response  as  yet  was  slight.  There  was  less  intelli- 
gence to  work  upon,  less  capacity  for  devotion,  less  re- 
ligious impulse.  It  took  a  catastrophe  like  the  famine 
to  rouse  those  Madigas  of  lesser  standing  out  of  the 
apathy  of  their  lives.  Then  they  rose  up  with  all  the 
gregariousness  of  their  tribal  characteristics  and  almost 
overwhelmed  us.  Yet  they  had  been  taught  for  years, 
taught  faithfully. 

We  missionaries  of  the  Telugu  Mission  were  now  giv- 
ing much  thought  to  the  question  of  extending  our  field. 
We  had  four  new  men.  We  knew  that  our  home  con- 
stituency was  ready  to  support  us  in  marking  our  boun- 
daries on  a  somewhat  ample  plan.  Our  mission  had  at 
this  time  four  stations,  located  along  the  seacoast.  Our 
total  membership  in  these  four  stations  was  nearly  four 
thousand. 

Nellore  had  been  a  good  base  of  operations.     Dr. 


226  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN   THE   ORIENT 

Jewett  had  occupied  this  center  for  nearly  thirty  years. 
At  this  time,  in  1874,  he  went  on  furlough,  and  gave 
charge  of  the  work  to  Dr.  David  Downie,  who  has  been 
the  Nellore  missionary  since  then.  When  Dr.  and  Mrs. 
Jewett  returned  to  India  in  1878  we  all  desired  to  see 
them  settled  in  Madras,  a  large,  important  city.  They 
opened  the  work  for  our  Telugu  Mission  there,  and  left 
their  benediction  on  it. 

During  the  three  years  while  Dr.  Jewett  and  I  were 
alone  in  the  Telugu  Mission  we  decided  that  Ongole  must 
be  our  second  station.  That  move  was  evidently  part  of 
God's  plan.  Next  we  decided  that  we  must  occupy  two 
centers  lying  between  Nellore  and  Ongole.  We  fixed  upon 
Allur  as  one  of  these,  a  town  which  had  been  one  of  the 
outstations  of  Nellore.  Dr.  Jewett  in  1869  secured 
property  for  mission  premises  in  Allur.  There  were 
members  enough  to  organize  a  church.  Helpers  from 
Nellore  felt  called  to  Allur.  Rev.  Edwin  Bullard,  who 
came  out  in  1870,  occupied  this  place  for  a  time,  but 
afterward  did  his  main  work  in  other  stations  of  the 
mission. 

Mr.  Timpany,  who  joined  us  in  1868,  was  the  man 
for  Ramapatnam,  a  place  lying  thirty  miles  south  of 
Ongole.  He  looked  for  land  on  which  to  build  a  bunga- 
low, but  none  could  be  found.  Then,  during  1869,  that 
most  prosperous  year  of  our  early  history,  the  govern- 
ment decided  to  transfer  the  headquarters  of  the  English 
magistrate  from  Ramapatnam  to  Ongole.  This  made 
a  large  compound  of  nearly  one  hundred  acres  and  two 
buildings  available  at  low  cost.  Mr.  Timpany  wrote  to 
me,  "Is  not  the  Lord  making  a  broad  road  to  Rama- 
patnam and  its  field?"  Early  in  1870  he  settled  there, 
and  was  now  my  nearest  neighbor.  Several  of  our  help- 
ers joined  him.  Thirty-two  members  of  our  Ongole 
church,  who  lived  on  his  field,  united  with  the  new 


MARKING    MISSION    BOUNDARIES  227 

church.  I  went  to  be  present  at  its  organization,  and 
preached  the  sermon  from  I  Samuel  2  130,  "Them  that 
honor  me  I  will  honor,  and  they  that  despise  me  shall 
be  lightly  esteemed."  We  all  took  a  deep  interest  in  the 
opening  of  this  station.  It  has  always  been  one  of  the 
strongest  in  the  mission. 

Our  theological  seminary  was  located  in  Ramapatnam. 
Mr.  Timpany  had  built  up  a  flourishing  school  by  the 
time  I  returned  from  America.  He  felt  the  need  of  it 
as  keenly  as  I,  for  he,  too,  was  receiving  converts  in 
large  numbers  and  was  wondering  how  to  supply  them 
with  preachers.  As  he  now  gave  charge  of  the  seminary 
to  Dr.  R.  R.  Williams,  we  men  on  the  field  discussed 
the  methods  to  be  employed  in  this  seminary  from  which 
we  all  expected  so  much.  Several  of  us  took  it  for 
granted  that  we  were  to  have  an  institution  after  the 
pattern  of  theological  schools  in  America,  giving  the 
men  as  complete  a  training  as  possible.  Others,  like 
myself,  saw  that  we  were  facing  an  emergency,  and  that 
it  would  have  to  be  our  aim,  at  this  juncture,  to  raise 
up  a  native  ministry  in  the  shortest  time  possible.  I 
held  that  a  course  of  two  or  three  years  would  educate 
the  men  above  their  previous  surroundings  to  a  degree 
that  would  give  them  adequate  fitness  to  be  teachers  and 
guides  to  the  rest.  I  also  insisted  that  the  wives  of  the 
men  should  be  given  every  opportunity  to  learn  with 
their  husbands.  If  they  snowed  capacity  equal  to  that 
of  their  husbands  they  were  to  be  regarded  as  regular 
pupils  in  the  seminary  classes.  I  knew  what  a  host  one 
such  woman  could  be  out  on  the  field.  I  also  knew  how 
crippled  was  the  preacher  whose  wife  was  untrained. 

Dr.  Williams  was  of  my  opinion.  He  reckoned  with 
the  needs  which  arose  through  the  ingathering.  During 
those  pressing  years  there  were  two  hundred  students  in 
the  institution.  The  call  for  workers  on  the  field  was 


228  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN   THE   ORIENT 

so  great  that  we  felt  bound  to  give  opportunity  for  train- 
ing to  every  man  who  felt  called  to  the  service  and  stood 
above  the  average  in  intelligence.  The  seminary  met  a 
great  need  at  that  time.  During  all  the  years  it  has  ful- 
filled the  hopes  I  had  concerning  it.  Gradually  a  better 
degree  of  fitness  was  required  before  entrance,  and  the 
course  was  extended  to  four  years. 

My  sister  Vina,  as  the  wife  of  Dr.  Williams,  was  there 
during  those  formative  years.  She  helped  in  teaching 
and  directing  the  students,  especially  the  women  in  the 
institution.  She  gave  an  abounding  love  and  sympathy 
to  all.  Less  than  three  years  it  lasted.  Then  Dr.  Wil- 
liams and  I  stood  by  an  open  grave,  under  a  palm  tree, 
in  sight  of  all  the  activities  my  sister  loved  so  much. 
There  we  laid  her  body  to  rest.  It  was  a  stunning  blow, 
against  which  I  almost  rebelled.  But  I  told  all  who  were 
mourning  that  the  Lord  Jesus  makes  no  mistakes,  but 
does  all  things  well.  Thus  we  have  to  step  aside  and 
bury  our  dead.  Sometimes  we  never  get  over  the  feel- 
ing that  something  bright  has  been  taken  out  of  our 
lives  which  we  could  ill  spare.  But  we  move  on  and  do 
our  work. 

With  our  four  stations  along  the  seacoast,  and  a  sem- 
inary located  in  one  of  them,  we  missionaries  felt  that 
we  should  do  as  Isaiah  says,  "Lengthen  thy  cords,  and 
strengthen  thy  stakes;  for  thou  shalt  break  forth  on  the 
right  hand  and  on  the  left."  We  took  into  considera- 
tion the  extent  of  the  Telugu  country.  It  covered  a  wide 
area  and  had  a  population  of  about  eighteen  million  peo- 
ple. In  the  northern  part  of  it  was  a  city,  Secunderabad, 
of  fifty  thousand  inhabitants,  and  a  large  cantonment  for 
English  troops.  A  Telugu  man  from  this  city  came  to 
our  mission  to  visit  friends.  He  was  a  pensioned  officer 
in  a  Sepoy  regiment,  an  intelligent  man,  of  noble  bearing 
and  simple  piety.  Years  before  when  stationed  in  Burma 


MARKING    MISSION   BOUNDARIES  229 

he  became  connected  with  a  church  of  our  society  there. 
We  talked  much  with  this  man  about  Secunderabad.  Rev. 
W.  W.  Campbell,  one  of  our  four  new  men,  decided  in 
December,  1874,  to  go  to  that  distant  city  and  ascertain, 
by  looking  over  the  field,  whether  Secunderabad  was  the 
center  for  us  to  occupy.  He  traveled  by  oxcart  in  slow 
stages,  a  distance  of  more  than  two  hundred  miles  from 
Ongole,  preaching  everywhere.  He  came  back  convinced 
that  that  was  the  place  for  him,  and  accordingly  made  his 
application  to  the  Executive  Committee.  His  appoint- 
ment came,  and  with  Mrs.  Campbell  he  settled  in  Se- 
cunderabad. Eight  men  and  women  from  the  Ongole 
church  went  with  him  as  helpers.  They  organized  a 
church.  A  good  foundation  was  laid;  it  became  the 
base  of  several  stations.  Thus  was  our  northern  boun- 
dary marked. 

A  year  later  we  decided  on  our  western  boundary. 
My  own  intentions  in  this  matter  were  overruled.  I  had 
fixed  upon  Cumbum  and  Markapur,  sixty  and  eighty 
miles  west  of  Ongole,  as  our  outposts.  The  mountain 
range  just  beyond  seemed  to  me  to  mark  a  natural  boun- 
dary. Repeatedly  I  requested  our  Executive  Committee 
to  send  a  man  to  occupy  Ongole,  and  let  me  settle  out 
there.  After  our  first  ingathering,  in  1869,  a  strong  cen- 
ter of  the  movement  was  in  that  region.  I  wanted  to  be 
in  the  midst  of  it,  but  no  one  seemed  to  agree  with  me 
about  this.  Gradually  I  began  to  notice  that  what  was 
called  "the  Ongole  wave"  was  crossing  that  mountain 
range.  It  was  penetrating  to  Kurnool,  a  city  of  twenty 
thousand  inhabitants,  where  as  yet  no  missionary  was  at 
work,  one  hundred  and  seventy  miles  west  of  us. 

There  was  "a  man  from  Macedonia"  calling  to  us  to 
come  and  help.  A  priest,  Galiah,  living  near  Kurnool, 
heard  of  the  Ongole  Mission  and  the  new  religion.  He 
felt  he  must  go  and  learn  more  about  it.  He  walked  all 


230  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY  IN  THE   ORIENT 

the  way,  crossing  the  mountain  range.  He  reached  Cum- 
bum ;  our  school  teacher  there  told  him  more  about  Jesus 
Christ.  He  walked  on  and  on,  till  he  came  to  us.  I  was 
deeply  interested  in  the  man,  and  believed  he  was  a 
Christian.  I  advised  him  to  go  home  and  set  his  house 
in  order  and  then  come  and  join  us.  He  was  never  heard 
from  again.  But  he  left  his  mark  on  me.  Perhaps  God 
sent  him.  Galiah  told  me  with  strong  conviction  that 
multitudes  of  his  people  would  believe  in  the  Lord  Jesus 
if  only  they  could  hear  of  him.  I  wrote  to  America,  May 
15,  1871: 

"Kurnool  has  been  in  my  mind  much  since  Galiah,  the 
convert,  went  away.  I  think  a  missionary  will  have  to  go 
up  there  soon.  You  may  think  me  visionary,  but  I  cannot 
get  rid  of  the  thought — it  haunts  me  night  and  day.  I  feel 
it  more,  I  presume,  because  I  have  tried  to  keep  our  work 
on  this  side  of  the  Nulla  Mulla  Hills,  thinking  that  we 
finally  could  not  go  any  further  for  years  to  come.  If  this 
work  had  been  mine,  I  dare  say  I  should  have  succeeded, 
but  the  work  is  God's  and  it  goes  where  he  pleases.  I  re- 
joice with  trembling.  O  for  help  to  be  strong  and  to  quit 
ourselves  like  men." 

Nearly  five  years  had  passed  since  then.  I  had  not 
forgotten  Galiah,  the  priest.  I  had  sent  Bezwada  Paul 
and  others  beyond  those  mountains,  and  they  had  brought 
back  reports  that  there  were  converts  in  that  region.  I 
talked  with  Rev.  D.  H.  Drake,  one  of  our  new  men,  and 
we  decided  to  go  and  spy  out  the  land.  If  Mr.  Drake  and 
I  had  known  how  hard  this  tour  was  going  to  be,  and 
how  much  it  would  cost  him  by  way  of  ill-health,  we 
might  have  hesitated.  He  often  said  afterward  that  it 
crippled  his  missionary  career.  Taken  altogether,  it  was 
the  most  difficult  tour  of  my  missionary  life  and  beset 
with  many  dangers. 


MARKING    MISSION    BOUNDARIES  23! 

With  an  adequate  equipment  of  tents  and  men  we 
started  November  15,  1875.  The  first  sixty  miles  took  us 
through  a  number  of  important  centers  where  our  Chris- 
tians lived.  We  preached  to  them  everywhere  and  found 
them  steadfast  in  faith,  while  many  came,  anxious  to  hear 
more  about  the  Lord  Jesus.  Then  we  reached  the  foot 
of  the  Nulla  Mulla  Hills,  a  mountain  range  about  3,000 
feet  high  and  from  fifteen  to  twenty  miles  wide.  We 
began  our  climb  before  daybreak,  and  went  ten  miles 
through  dense  jungle.  We  reached  a  good  camping 
place,  with  a  well  close  by.  A  number  of  idols  had  been 
placed  here  by  pious  Hindus,  to  guard  the  spot  and  keep 
away  the  demons  that  send  malaria.  We  decided  to  pitch 
our  small  tent  here  and  spend  the  night.  Tigers  were 
prowling  around.  Two  of  our  men  were  awake  all 
night  keeping  a  large  campfire  burning  to  protect  our 
ponies  and  bullocks  and  ourselves  as  well  from  tigers 
and  panthers.  Meanwhile  I  had  sent  Obulu  with  four  of 
our  men  ahead  to  take  the  large  tent  across  the  mountain 
and  pitch  it  ready  for  us  when  we  arrived  on  the  other 
side.  A  man  of  the  wild  Chentsu  tribe,  which  inhabits 
those  hills,  served  as  guide.  Four  bearers  with  bamboo 
torches  were  to  show  the  way. 

All  went  well  with  them  until  they  came  to  a  place 
where  the  road,  just  wide  enough  for  a  cart,  wound 
round  the  side  of  a  hill  and  up  until  it  reached  an  eleva- 
tion of  probably  two  thousand  feet.  On  the  one  side 
was  a  mountain  a  thousand  feet  higher  still,  and  on  the 
other  side  an  awful  precipice,  nearly  perpendicular,  a 
thousand  feet  down  to  the  valley  below.  Here  the  bul- 
locks became  frightened  at  something,  and  the  cart  top- 
pled over.  A  friendly  tree,  just  in  the  right  place,  caught 
it,  else  the  cart,  my  tent,  bulls  and  cartmen  would  all  have 
gone  down  the  precipice.  The  men  righted  the  cart,  and 
then  Obulu  called  to  them,  "Our  God  has  delivered  us 


232  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN   THE   ORIENT 

from  a  horrible  death.  We  must  give  him  thanks." 
They  took  time  to  build  a  fire  to  keep  off  the  tigers,  and 
then  they  all  bowed  down  with  Obulu  to  pray.  One  after 
another  they  gave  thanks.  Even  those  hillmen,  with 
incoherent  words,  acknowledged  Obulu's  God.  There 
the  next  morning  at  eight  I  came  upon  them,  as  I  was 
going  ahead  of  the  rest  on  my  pony.  I  had  to  put  fresh 
courage  into  Obulu  and  his  little  caravan  before  they 
were  willing  to  go  ahead.  We  all  went  together  and 
reached  the  other  side,  thankful  to  be  safe  from  tigers 
and  jungle  fever. 

Those  tigers  on  our  way  gave  us  a  good  deal  of  anx- 
iety. The  mountain  pass  was  full  of  them,  and  some 
went  prowling  even  in  the  day.  We  never  knew  at  what 
moment  a  tiger  might  spring  upon  our  bullock  driver  and 
carry  him  off.  It  happened  on  that  road  which  we  were 
traveling,  that  a  man-eating  tiger  had  learned  to  lie  in 
wait  for  the  mail-carrier,  as  he  ran  along,  a  stick  over 
his  shoulder,  the  mail-bag  at  one  end  and  some  bells 
jingling  at  the  other,  to  frighten  away  the  snakes  on  the 
road.  For  three  days  in  succession  he  ate  a  mail-car- 
rier, and  as  it  was  known  by  telegram  that  no  mail  had 
arrived  beyond  the  pass,  all  knew  what  it  meant,  and  no 
native  was  willing  to  venture.  An  English  officer  de- 
cided to  go  and  see  what  was  wrong.  He  colored  himself 
brown,  tied  on  a  loin  cloth,  took  a  gun  on  his  shoulder 
with  bells  jingling  on  it,  announcing  his  coming.  He 
reached  a  place  in  dense  jungle.  A  big  tiger  jumped  out 
and  was  met  by  the  gun.  The  Englishman  looked  about 
and  saw  three  mail-bags  with  sticks  and  bells  lying  there 
and  a  few  rags,  giving  evidence  of  the  tiger's  three  meals. 
The  great  famine,  several  years  later,  thinned  out  those 
tigers.  When  the  smaller  animals  began  to  starve  be- 
cause everything  had  dried  up,  the  tigers  were  the  next 
to  starve.  They  grew  bold  in  going  long  distances, 


MARKING   MISSION    BOUNDARIES  233 

prowling  about  the  villages,  adding  to  the  terrors  of  the 
famine-stricken  people. 

We  rested  on  the  other  side  of  the  pass  and  then  moved 
on  ten  miles  farther  to  the  village  Atmakur,  where  Bez- 
wada  Paul  had  been  at  work,  now  and  then,  for  more 
than  a  year.  A  deputation  had  come  to  Ongole  from  this 
village  some  months  before  and  asked  for  a  preacher.  I 
had  sent  one,  and  had  told  him  to  tell  the  people  I  was 
coming  to  see  them.  We  now  went  to  their  hamlet  and 
found  a  congregation  of  two  hundred  ready  to  listen. 
Later  in  the  day  ten  came  to  the  tent  and  asked  to  be  re- 
ceived, as  they  had  believed  in  the  Lord  Jesus  for  some 
time.  Then  a  number  who  had  been  undecided,  though 
also  under  instruction,  joined  those  ten.  Mr.  Drake  and 
I  stayed  another  day,  and  I  preached  again  to  a  large  con- 
gregation. We  examined  the  converts,  and  saw  no  rea- 
son why  they  should  not  be  received.  My  diary  says : 

"We  baptized  twenty-six  upon  profession  of  faith  in 
Jesus.  At  noon  all  assembled  at  the  tent,  and  they  chose 
four  of  their  number  as  deacons,  and  Guraviah  to  be  their 
pastor.  Thus  ended  December  I,  1875,  in  establishing  the 
first  Baptist  church,  or  branch  church,  west  of  the  moun- 
tains, to  be  connected  with  the  future  Kurnool  Baptist 
Mission." 

The  little  company  of  believers  begged  for  a  missionary. 
They  said  hundreds  would  believe  if  they  had  some  one 
there  to  teach  them.  This  encouraged  Mr.  Drake.  We 
had  forty  miles  more  to  Kurnool,  and  when,  just  after 
sunrise,  we  entered  the  town,  it  presented  a  beautiful 
appearance,  with  the  adjoining  country,  and  the  river 
flowing  through.  We  called  on  the  English  officials,  and 
looked  about  for  a  suitable  bungalow  for  Mr.  Drake. 

Our  homeward  journey  from  Kurnool  nearly  cost  sev- 
eral lives.  We  took  the  southern  pass.  The  first  night 


234  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN   THE   ORIENT 

we  went  eight  miles  through  the  jungle  and  had  to  camp 
in  a  miasmatic  place.  The  next  day,  when  we  halted 
after  five  miles  more,  Mr.  Drake  was  taken  with  jungle 
fever.  Two  hours  later  our  cook  fell  ill.  I  secured  a 
cart  for  each  and  we  pressed  on,  to  get  beyond  the  range 
of  tigers  and  malaria.  After  we  left  the  mountains  be- 
hind us  we  had  to  go  in  easy  stages  because  of  our  sick 
ones.  Soon  Obulu  fell  sick,  and  I  hired  a  cart  for  him. 
Next  a  preacher,  and  two  days  later  the  tent  pitcher  fell 
sick.  I  now  had  a  caravan  of  five  sick  men.  The  most 
serious  case  was  that  of  Mr.  Drake.  At  times  I  won- 
dered whether  he  would  live.  I  had  ample  medicine  with 
me  for  them  all.  But  nine  days  of  tedious  journey  lay 
between  Ongole  and  the  place  where  they  fell  sick.  When 
at  last  we  reached  Ongole  we  had  traveled  over  more 
than  four  hundred  miles  on  horseback,  or  in  carts,  or  on 
foot. 

Six  months  later  Mr.  Drake  settled  in  Kurnool.  I 
called  for  volunteers  among  our  preachers  to  go  with 
him,  and  took  from  them  a  promise  that  they  would  not 
fail  him  in  that  distant  city.  The  little  center  at  Atma- 
kur,  which  we  had  planted,  throve  well  for  a  time.  Later 
there  was  some  falling  away.  During  the  years  of  the 
great  ingathering  hundreds  professed  faith  in  Jesus. 
There  was  a  harvest  in  that  direction,  just  as  Galiah,  the 
priest,  told  me  seven  years  before  would  be  the  case. 

Thus  were  the  northern  and  western  boundaries  of  our 
Telugu  Mission  staked  during  1875.  For  twenty  years 
we  kept  our  work  within  the  lines  then  marked.  Later 
the  younger  men  went  somewhat  farther,  but  practically 
the  outposts  remained  the  same. 

An  important  move  of  those  years  was  the  founding 
of  the  Canadian  Baptist  Telugu  Mission  north  of  us. 
The  work  among  the  Telugus  had  a  strong  hold  upon  the 
Baptists  in  Canada.  Mr.  Day,  the  founder  of  our  Telugu 


MARKING    MISSION    BOUNDARIES  235 

Mission,  had  passed  the  last  eighteen  years  of  his  life  at 
home  in  Canada.  Like  a  prophet  of  old,  he  said  at  the 
last,  "Lord,  now  lettest  thou  thy  servant  depart  in  peace 
according  to  thy  word,  for  mine  eyes  have  seen  thy  sal- 
vation." He  wrote  to  Dr.  Jewett,  a  few  months  before 
his  death,  in  1871 :  "Oh  how  many  times  within  a  few 
years,  when  reading  missionary  news  from  our  Telugu 
Mission,  I  have  almost  staggered  under  the  weight  of 
the  good  news,  and  like  the  disciples  on  one  occasion  after 
the  resurrection  of  their  Lord,  'believed  not  for  joy  and 
wondered.' '  He  did  not  live  to  hear  of  the  thousands 
who  had  come.  The  hundreds  stood  as  a  fulfillment 
granted  by  God  to  this  man  of  faith. 

The  interest  aroused  in  Canada  by  the  work  of  the 
Timpanys  and  McLaurins  had  led  to  large  giving.  It 
was  decided  to  begin  an  independent  work  among  the 
Telugus  by  opening  a  station  at  Cocanada,  an  important 
seaport  town  about  two  hundred  miles  northeast  of  On- 
gole.  Accordingly,  when  I  returned  to  India  in  1874, 
Dr.  and  Mrs.  McLaurin  resigned  their  connection  with 
our  society  and  began  work  in  Cocanada.  They  were 
soon  joined  by  other  men  and  women  from  Canada.  In 
1878  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Timpany  also  united  with  this  new 
mission,  leaving  behind,  on  the  Ramapatnam  field,  a 
strong  membership  of  nearly  eight  hundred.  Much  fra- 
ternal interest  has  always  characterized  the  relations  be- 
tween the  Canadian  Mission  and  our  own. 

There  is  a  half-circle  of  Baptist  missions  along  the 
coast  of  the  Bay  of  Bengal,  extending  over  three  thou- 
sand miles.  These  missions  are  at  work  among  people 
of  various  origin,  speaking  various  languages.  One 
after  another,  in  the  course  of  the  century,  they  came 
from  England,  the  United  States,  Canada  and  Australia, 
clustering  side  by  side  in  a  neighborly  way.  Dr.  William 
Carey  made  the  beginning  in  1793,  founding  a  large 


236  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN    THE   ORIENT 

English  Baptist  mission  in  and  beyond  Calcutta.  This 
formed  the  middle  of  the  half-circle.  Dr.  Adoniram 
Judson,  after  calling  upon  American  Baptists  to  form  a 
society,  began  in  1813  in  Burma,  and  the  work  extended 
into  Assam.  Dr.  Judson  was  at  one  end  of  the  half- 
circle.  Our  Telugu  Mission  was  at  the  other  end  of  it. 
He  began  in  1813,  while  our  expansive  period  began 
fifty  years  later,  in  1864. 

That  half-circle  of  Baptist  missions  stands  for  much 
hard  work  and  much  faith.  Innumerable  strands  of  in- 
fluence reach  out  to  connect  the  men  of  India  with  Chris- 
tian men  of  several  continents.  The  divine  life  of  Jesus 
Christ  finds  expression  in  this  connection.  Men  looked 
to  him  and  did  their  work  in  his  name. 


XV 

AN   INDIAN    FAMINE 

THE  half-yearly  monsoon,  in  the  summer  of  1876,  had 
failed.  We  all  were  anxiously  watching  the  clouds.  If 
another  monsoon  season  passed  with  cloudless  sky  a  fam- 
ine was  inevitable. 

In  September  of  that  year  I  went  on  tour.  I  wanted 
especially  to  go  into  the  Kanigiri  and  Podili  taluks  to  see 
the  Christians ;  for  I  had  heard  that  they  were  suffering 
through  the  scarcity  which  had  already  begun.  Periah,  as 
arranged,  met  me  when  I  reached  those  taluks.  He  told 
me  I  could  go  no  farther.  He  said  my  horse  which  I 
was  riding,  and  the  bullocks  drawing  the  cart  with  my 
tent  must  starve  if  I  proceeded  further,  which  meant 
that  I  would  have  no  means  of  returning  home.  I  re- 
fused to  believe  that  the  outlook  was  already  so  dark.  I 
tried  all  day  to  get  straw  to  take  along  as  fodder,  but 
had  to  give  it  up.  I  was  on  the  confines  of  the  area 
where  distress  was  already  evident.  Very  reluctantly  I 
turned  and  went  back  home.  My  heart  was  heavy  with 
the  trouble  which  I  saw  was  coming. 

The  poor,  dumb  beasts  were  the  first  to  suffer.  Fod- 
der had  given  out.  Cattle  were  fed  on  the  leaves  of  trees 
and  shrubs,  made  eatable  by  soaking  and  pounding.  Even 
that  supply  was  exhausted.  Out  in  the  jungle  the  rab- 
bits and  deer  died  out.  Tigers  roamed  about  hungry. 
Jackals  alone  were  thriving,  for  they  fed  on  the  dead. 

237 


238  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN   THE   ORIENT 

The  Nellore  district  was  famous  for  its  breed  of  cat- 
tle. The  government  occasionally  instituted  cattle  shows. 
I  always  took  an  interest  in  these  efforts  to  increase  the 
prosperity  of  the  community.  The  Sudras  began  now 
to  feel  hard  pressed.  The  beautiful  cattle,  which  were 
their  pride,  and  stood  for  their  wealth,  were  starving. 
Dealers  from  all  parts  of  India  were  coming  to  buy  up 
the  best.  They  were  unscrupulous,  and  offered  a  beg- 
garly price.  The  Sudras  appealed  to  me.  I  stepped  in 
for  them  as  go-between.  I  was  a  farmer's  son,  and 
knew  the  value  of  cattle.  I  helped  a  few,  and  the  report 
of  it  spread.  Soon  the  Sudras  refused  to  sell,  except 
through  me.  The  dealers  began  to  come  straight  to  me. 
I  could  not  spare  the  time  to  conduct  small  sales.  They 
brought  the  cattle  to  me  in  droves.  A  sale  of  one  hun- 
dred cows  in  one  day  was  the  highest  I  reached.  I  al- 
ways arranged  for  a  fair  price.  The  governor  in  Ma- 
dras heard  of  it  and  twice  sent  me  a  large  order  to  fill 
for  his  household.  Soon  all  the  cattle  were  gone.  Only 
the  wealthiest  Sudras  could  keep  a  few  and  feed  them 
somehow.  It  took  the  prosperous  farming  community 
years  to  rise  from  the  calamity  which  fell  upon  them  at 
the  beginning  of  the  famine. 

The  Madigas,  being  on  the  bottom  round  of  the  lad- 
der, were  the  next  to  suffer  the  pangs  of  hunger.  Even 
when  harvests  were  good  they  were  never  far  from  the 
condition  where  they  had  only  one  meal  a  day.  For  a 
time  they  fed  on  the  cattle  that  died  of  starvation.  Then 
distress  began.  Our  Christians  complained  bitterly  that 
they  had  a  meal  only  once  in  two  days  and  could  not 
endure  it  much  longer.  Soon  the  preachers  and  helpers, 
of  whom  there  were  now  sixty,  wrote  urgent  letters  to 
me.  They  had  nothing  to  eat.  The  church  members 
were  themselves  starving,  and  could  not  give  them  so 
much  as  a  handful  of  rice.  The  willingness  of  the  people 


AN    INDIAN    FAMINE  239 

to  provide  for  their  preachers  and  teachers  suffered  a 
shock.  They  never  wholly  returned  to  their  old  habits 
of  giving. 

While  we  men  of  the  white  race  were  slowly  becoming 
convinced  that  something  on  a  large  scale  would  have  to 
be  undertaken  to  relieve  the  growing  distress,  the  Hindus 
were  at  work  giving  help  in  their  own  way.  Families 
who  had  enough  to  eat  went  on  half  rations,  in  order  to 
give  to  relatives  who  were  starving.  Wealthy  men  of 
every  caste  obeyed  their  sacred  books,  and  fed  a  given 
number  of  people  each  day.  Some  fed  only  a  few ;  some 
several  hundred ;  there  were  Hindu  gentlemen  in  Madras 
who  fed  two  thousand  each  day.  Even  if  only  a  little 
thin  gruel  was  given,  it  sustained  life.  All  through  the 
famine  the  charity  of  the  Hindus  was  in  evidence.  They 
joined  us  white  men  when  the  government  now  made  an 
organized  effort,  backed  by  large  expenditure  from  its 
treasury.  There  was  blending  here  of  Western  and 
Eastern  modes  of  charity.  White  men  were  familiar 
with  organized  efforts.  The  Hindus  found  that  in  this 
way  also  they  could  feed  the  poor  and  fulfill  thereby  the 
law  of  their  religion. 

The  government  of  the  Madras  Presidency  began  in  a 
masterly  fashion  to  cope  with  the  situation.  Public 
works  on  a  gigantic  scale,  which  had  been  contemplated 
for  years,  were  now  undertaken  in  order  to  give  employ- 
ment to  the  starving.  The  construction  of  the  Bucking- 
ham Canal  was  one  of  these  and  concerned  us  in  our  dis- 
trict. Thus  far  it  had  extended  from  Madras  north 
about  one  hundred  miles,  and  came  to  a  stop  a  little  be- 
yond Nellore.  The  question  had  often  been  raised  of 
extending  the  canal  a  hundred  miles  further.  We  had 
nothing  north  of  Nellore  but  country  roads,  and  they 
were  impassable  sometimes  for  weeks,  during  the  rainy 
season.  Engineers  came  and  computed  that  it  would 


24O  SOCIAL    CHRISTIANITY   IN    THE   ORIENT 

take  four  years  to  do  the  digging-,  which  meant  heavy 
expenditure.  I  pointed  out  in  the  Madras  papers  even 
before  anyone  thought  of  a  famine,  that  those  engineers 
had  overestimated  both  the  time  and  the  money  required 
for  the  canal  project.  It  now  came  to  pass  that  under 
stress  of  famine  the  one  hundred  miles  of  canal  were 
completed  in  one  year's  time. 

A  leading  government  engineer,  who  had  had  experi- 
ence in  employing  large  bodies  of  working  people,  was 
instructed  to  have  the  whole  program  of  operations  ready. 
There  was  still  hope  that  the  usual  northeast  monsoon 
would  come  at  the  end  of  1876,  and  that  a  famine  would 
thereby  be  averted.  It  failed.  Then  the  order  was  given. 
In  three  weeks'  time  officials  were  in  their  places,  and 
one  hundred  thousand  people  were  at  work  digging.  The 
management  of  the  whole  project  was  admirable.  Every- 
where the  motive  to  give  relief  was  apparent.  It  was  all 
on  a  humane  basis. 

I  watched  the  work  on  the  Buckingham  Canal  with 
keen  interest.  The  line  taken  passed  through  the  region 
where  our  Christians  lived.  They  could  thus  be  saved 
from  starvation.  I  wanted  to  help  them.  It  was  clear 
to  me  that  I  must  work  in  conjunction  with  government 
officials.  I  lost  no  time  in  offering  my  services  to  them. 
Everything  they  did  was  on  a  large  scale.  They  had 
eight  thousand  tons  of  rice  from  Burma  to  transport  in 
the  direction  of  Cumbum,  and  asked  me  to  contract  for 
the  necessary  bullock  carts.  Cholera  broke  out  in  On- 
gole.  It  was  prevalent  in  the  district  also.  They  gave 
me  ten  thousand  cholera  pills  to  distribute  among  our 
preachers,  on  condition  that  I  would  teach  them  how  to 
help  the  sufferers. 

The  groups  of  people  sitting  on  my  veranda  and  under 
the  trees  in  front  of  it  gave  evidence  of  the  growing  dis- 
tress. They  were  from  every  part  of  my  field,  already 


AN    INDIAN    FAMINE  24! 

emaciated  and  asking  me  to  help  them.  The  preachers 
and  teachers  were  coming  and  going  with  care-worn 
faces.  Some  friends,  government  officials  among  them, 
had  placed  money  at  my  disposal  to  give  to  starving 
Christians.  It  was  as  nothing  compared  with  what  was 
even  then  required.  I  began  to  advise  the  able-bodied 
who  came  for  help  to  go  to  the  canal  and  dig;  for  the 
work  on  it  was  now  approaching  nearer.  But  I  saw  that 
I  could  not  induce  them  to  go  there  in  numbers  unless  I 
was  there  myself.  It  was  a  question  of  the  old  disability 
of  the  Madigas.  In  principle  the  English  officials  al- 
lowed no  distinctions  to  be  made.  When  it  came  to  prac- 
tice, the  overseers,  who  were  closest  to  the  people,  had 
scope  to  oppress  them  and  illtreat  them.  The  Madigas 
preferred  to  die  at  home  in  their  own  hamlets. 

I  talked  with  the  preachers.  They  had  taken  counsel 
with  the  village  elders  everywhere  and  knew  the  mind 
of  the  people.  I  saw  that  public  opinion  in  our  Christian 
community  had  taken  hold  of  the  question.  The  preach- 
ers acted  as  spokesmen  for  the  people.  They  stood  be- 
tween me  and  the  thousands  whom  I  was  anxious  to  keep 
alive,  and  intimated  to  me  how  it  would  have  to  be  done. 
I  was  to  create  an  opportunity  for  the  Christians,  and 
give  them  backing  and  protection.  The  preachers  were 
ready  to  second  my  efforts.  They  pointed  out  to  me 
that  several  of  their  number  had  at  times  been  placed 
over  gangs  of  coolies  in  road-making  and  other  con- 
tracts. With  these  men  as  overseers  the  Christians  would 
have  no  fears.  The  conviction  grew  upon  me  that  I 
must  personally  take  an  active  part  in  the  hard  work  of 
that  canal  if  I  wanted  to  see  our  Christians  get  any 
benefit  from  it. 

I  decided  to  make  a  definite  move.  I  went  first  to 
Kottapatam,  a  seaport  town  ten  miles  east  of  Ongole, 
where  the  engineers  of  that  section  of  the  canal  had  their 


242  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY  IN   THE   ORIENT 

headquarters.  I  showed  those  engineers  my  certificate 
as  United  States  Deputy  Surveyor,  given  to  me  twenty 
years  before  in  the  wilds  of  Minnesota.  It  served  as  my 
card  of  admission.  They  saw  at  once  that  I  was  ac- 
quainted with  the  technical  terms  of  surveying  and  could 
talk  that  language.  I  somehow  fell  right  into  line.  To 
make  a  beginning  I  took  a  contract  for  one  mile.  My 
camp  was  to  be  located  at  Razupallem,  a  few  miles  south 
of  Kottapatam.  I  sent  my  tent  and  my  whole  camping 
outfit  to  this  place  February  5,  1877,  and  here  now  I 
practically  lived  for  four  months. 

Mrs.  Clough,  meanwhile,  was  in  charge  of  our  com- 
pound in  Ongole.  She  bore  a  heavy  load  during  those 
months.  Cholera  was  always  threatening.  Regular  mis- 
sion work  was  disorganized.  She  had  to  help  everyone 
make  the  best  of  the  situation.  A  coolie  was  sent  to  me 
each  day  with  water  and  supplies  and  my  mail.  I  was 
kept  in  touch  with  all  that  was  going  on.  Without  this 
efficient  cooperation  we  could  not  have  carried  the  bur- 
dens of  those  days. 

When  the  preachers  saw  that  my  tent  now  marked  the 
place  which  was  to  be  our  camp,  near  Razupallem,  they 
took  courage,  and  were  eager  to  do  their  part.  I  chose 
Thaluri  Daniel,  on  account  of  his  practical  ability,  to  be 
at  the  head  of  the  village  of  huts  which  had  to  be  erected. 
I  showed  him  the  site,  and  how  to  lay  out  the  one  hun- 
dred huts  in  rows,  forming  little  streets  similar  to  camps 
along  the  whole  line  of  the  canal.  The  engineers  fur- 
nished us  with  palm  leaves  and  sticks  for  the  huts.  Sev- 
eral wells  had  to  be  dug.  Potters  had  to  bring  a  supply 
of  pots  for  cooking.  Native  merchants  were  to  come 
with  bags  of  grain  and  set  up  a  bazaar.  I  sent  for  mill- 
stones to  grind  the  grain.  Thus  we  made  ready  for  that 
which  was  to  come. 

I  went  back  to  Ongole.     Our  preachers,  meanwhile, 


AN   INDIAN   FAMINE  243 

had  gone  out  to  tell  the  Christians  everywhere  about  our 
camp.  At  a  given  time  they  were  to  come  with  com- 
panies from  their  fields.  Wayside  allowance  had  been 
granted  for  them,  that  they  might  not  succumb  on  the 
way.  An  emaciated  crowd  of  hundreds  of  our  Chris- 
tians arrived  in  our  compound.  I  gave  them  food  and 
sent  them  to  our  camp,  and  mounted  my  horse  in  order 
to  arrive  there  before  them.  It  was  a  night  of  great 
confusion  as  they  took  possession  of  huts  and  clamored 
for  food.  The  preachers  and  I  were  hard  pressed,  but 
finally  order  prevailed.  We  were  dealing  with  hungry 
people. 

The  work  of  digging  began  February  24,  1877.  I 
took  a  spade  and  did  the  first  stroke  of  work  myself. 
We  were  supplied  with  picks  and  shovels.  The  men 
worked  with  these;  the  women  filled  baskets  with  earth 
and  carried  them  away  on  their  heads  to  empty  on  one 
side  and  return.  The  canal  was  to  be  twelve  feet  deep. 
We  had  about  eight  hundred  coolies  on  our  list.  Every- 
thing seemed  now  in  good  order  for  work,  then  cholera 
broke  out.  My  diary  records : 

"March  17,  1877:  Ten  new  cases  of  cholera.  Prospect 
bad. 

"March  18:  Trying  all  day  to  keep  down  a  panic.  Sev- 
eral new  cases  of  cholera. 

"March  20:  Cholera  thicker.  Conclude  not  to  send  any 
more  to  Kottapatam  hospital.  The  people  beg  not  to  be 
sent.  Wrote  to  Dr.  O'Hara  and  ask  for  a  hospital  here  and 
a  dresser.  Out  in  the  sun  before  the  little  cholera  huts  from 
early  morning  till  noon  giving  medicines.  Seven  were  down 
with  cholera.  One  man  was  much  frightened.  He  com- 
plained the  liniment  I  put  on  him  burnt  him,  and  he  re- 
fused the  medicine.  In  another  hut  was  a  friend  of  this 
man,  who  shouted  to  him  between  his  cramps  and  pains: 
Take  the  medicine!  Stop  groaning  that  way!  Trust  in 


244  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY  IN   THE   ORIENT 

Jesus.  Pray  to  Jesus.  Do  not  be  a  coward.'  He  offered 
a  silent  prayer  before  he  took  a  dose  of  medicine,  and  re- 
covered. The  other  man  died." 


I  began  now  to  suspect  the  food  the  people  were  eat- 
ing. I  told  the  preachers  to  watch.  They  found  the 
native  merchants  were  bringing  grain  into  the  camp  that 
was  spoiled  or  only  half  ripe.  It  was  cheap  and  the  peo- 
ple bought  it.  This  was  contrary  to  my  agreement  with 
those  merchants.  I  came  upon  two  of  them  bringing 
spoiled  grain  into  our  bazaar.  They  dropped  their  bags 
in  fear  and  ran  when  they  saw  me.  The  grain  fell  upon 
the  ground  and  I  stamped  it  with  my  feet  till  it  was 
mixed  with  sand  and  no  one  could  find  and  eat  it.  After 
that  one  of  the  preachers  was  in  charge  of  the  bazaar  of 
the  camp. 

We  found  also  that  we  would  have  to  give  special  care 
to  the  new  arrivals.  The  people  came  in  groups,  large  or 
small,  all  in  a  starving  condition.  One  of  our  older 
preachers,  a  man  with  a  kind  heart,  was  there  and  re- 
ceived them;  he  gave  them  something  to  eat  and  told 
them  to  rest.  Often  they  were  too  hungry  to  wait;  they 
ate  the  half-boiled  grain  out  of  the  pot,  and  then  lay  down 
and  died.  If  the  preacher  tried  to  make  those  who  were 
weak  drink  gruel  until  they  could  bear  a  substantial  meal 
they  refused.  It  angered  them.  They  said,  "Never 
mind,  let  me  eat;  I  am  dying  with  hunger."  Others  were 
so  emaciated,  no  matter  how  much  they  ate,  they  were 
always  hungry.  They  ate  oftener  and  more  than  their 
starved  bodies  could  endure.  Soon  they  were  found 
lying  somewhere  very  still,  and  those  who  looked  at 
them  found  that  they  were  dead. 

The  people  saw  that  the  preachers  and  I  were  caring 
for  their  needs,  yet  though  we  did  everything  in  our 
power  to  put  courage  into  them,  a  panic  spread.  They 


AN    INDIAN    FAMINE  245 

said,  "If  we  must  die,  let  us  go  home  and  die  there." 
Soon  half  the  coolies  on  my  list  were  either  sick  or  dead, 
or  had  quietly,  without  saying  anything,  left  for  their 
homes.  Only  a  few  hundred  remained.  But  I  was  now 
given  a  hospital  for  my  camp.  A  dresser  came  and  I 
gave  him  medical  charge.  Then  I  went  home  to  Ongole, 
for  I  was  worn  out  and  not  well. 

Scarcely  had  I  been  at  home  a  few  days,  resting  while 
I  attended  to  all  the  accumulation  of  work  awaiting  me 
there,  when  new  distress  sent  me  back  to  the  canal.  It 
began  to  rain  heavily  one  afternoon,  and  continued  the 
next  day.  I  wondered  how  they  were  faring  at  the  camp. 
As  I  listened  during  the  night  to  the  downpour  I  was  glad 
only  a  few  hundred  coolies  were  left;  for  I  knew  the 
preachers  could  care  for  them  till  I  could  reach  them. 
At  sunrise  I  was  on  my  horse.  It  had  stopped  raining. 
The  Yellagundla  River  had  come  down  between  me  and 
camp,  one  and  a  half  miles  wide,  and  from  six  inches  to 
two  feet  deep.  I  had  to  cross  this.  When  halfway 
across  my  horse  gave  out.  Then  I  took  to  wading.  The 
faithful  men  at  camp  were  on  the  lookout  for  me.  They 
came  in  a  body  to  meet  me.  They  offered  to  carry  me 
the  rest  of  the  stretch  through  the  water.  It  was  so 
muddy  I  feared  they  could  not — I  walked.  When  I 
reached  my  tent  I  had  been  in  wet  clothes  three  hours, 
with  the  hot  sun  overhead.  I  wrote  immediately  to  Ma- 
jor Chambers  and  reported  the  distress  of  my  coolies,  and 
he  replied  I  might  give  subsistence  allowance. 

Thus  the  rain  came  for  which  we  longed  so  much,  but 
it  came  in  torrents.  We  tided  over  the  hardships  that 
came  through  the  cold  dampness  and  were  thankful;  for 
the  rain  had  kept  off  a  water  famine — one  terror  less. 

Large  companies  of  coolies  were  coming  now  to  the 
camp.  Those  who  had  gone  home  panic-stricken  re- 
turned and  brought  others  with  them.  Several  preachers 


246  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY  IN   THE   ORIENT 

were  going  about  everywhere  over  the  field  telling  the 
people  to  come  to  the  camp  and  dig  and  live.  Wayside 
allowance  was  provided  that  they  might  not  starve  walk- 
ing the  weary  miles  to  the  canal.  I  knew  that  I  must 
count  upon  a  large  increase  in  coolies  in  a  short  time.  I 
therefore  applied  for  a  contract  for  three  and  a  half 
miles,  including  the  previous  smaller  contract. 

My  one  thought  was  to  keep  the  Christians  and  the 
adherents  alive.  But  the  reply  to  my  application  opened 
a  different  way  to  me.  Lieut.  Rawson,  R.  E.,  wrote  to 
me  March  20,  1877 : 

"I  am  very  sorry  indeed  that  you  have  cholera  in  your 
coolie  camp.  I  hope  that  it  will  soon  be  better.  I  am  per- 
fectly willing  to  let  you  have  from  B.  M.  stone  1 10  to  B.  M. 
stone  136  on  the  condition  that  you  mention  that,  if  your 
own  Christian  coolies  cannot  finish  the  contract,  you  will 
get  in  other  people  to  help  them." 

I  agreed  to  that  condition  about  letting  other  coolies 
help  on  my  contract  if  my  Christian  coolies  could  not 
finish  it.  I  had  no  expectation  that  this  contingency 
would  arise.  In  the  beginning  my  camp  was  emphati- 
cally a  Christian  coolie  camp.  Then  the  engineer  in 
charge  asked  me  to  put  on  a  larger  force,  and  the  num- 
bers rose  to  over  three  thousand,  only  about  half  of  whom 
were  Christians.  The  other  half  here  came  under  Chris- 
tian instruction  to  which  circumstances  gave  a  peculiar 
force. 

One  preacher  after  another  was  now  made  overseer. 
They  showed  each  other  how  to  do  the  measuring  and 
how  to  keep  accounts.  In  order  to  produce  a  fellow- 
feeling  between  the  overseers  and  the  coolies  I  made  it 
a  rule  that  every  man  who  applied  for  the  post  must  first 
work  among  the  diggers  until  blisters  rose  on  his  hands. 


AN   INDIAN   FAMINE  247 

The  men  enjoyed  it.  They  came  and  showed  me  their 
hands  with  every  indication  that  they  had  been  using 
pick  and  shovel.  I  said,  "You  will  make  good  over- 
seers." They  went  to  work  with  a  smile  on  their  faces. 
The  people  knew  that  this  had  been  done.  It  made  a  dif- 
ference with  them  all.  The  preachers  saw  my  meaning. 
It  was  a  case  of  being  all  things  to  all  men. 

Each  overseer  was  responsible  for  one  hundred  coolies. 
He  had  to  calculate  the  amount  of  work  done,  and  pay 
for  it  at  sundown.  With  measuring  rod  in  his  hand,  he 
was  always  there,  and  became  acquainted  with  those 
under  him.  Wages  were  good;  men  saved  up  a  few 
rupees,  went  home  and  sent  other  members  of  their  fam- 
ilies. Our  preachers  were  now  all  at  our  camp.  Their 
influence  over  the  field  was  dominant,  perhaps  more  than 
ever.  The  members  of  their  flock  came  straight  to  them 
when  they  reached  the  canal.  They  brought  tidings  from 
the  field.  Messages  were  sent  by  those  who  returned 
home.  The  village  elders  especially  formed  a  connecting 
link ;  many  of  them  came  to  the  canal,  others  stayed  at 
home.  They  cooperated  with  the  preachers.  All  took 
an  interest  in  the  hundreds  and  thousands  who  were  now 
coming,  who  were  not  yet  members  of  our  Christian  com- 
munity. They  were  treated  with  all  kindness  by  the 
preachers,  and  were  made  to  lose  their  fear  and  to  feel 
at  ease. 

Those  leaders  of  the  movement  among  the  Madigas 
who  had  been  at  the  head  of  the  social  uprising  among 
them  stood  now,  at  intervals,  along  our  three  miles  of 
canal.  There  were  times  when  their  number  rose  to 
thirty.  The  best  among  them  struck  the  keynote.  The 
rest  followed.  They  were  holding  together  with  all  the 
sense  of  fellowship  that  had  already  endured  for  many 
years.  Related  to  one  another  and  to  many  of  those 
who  came  by  family  ties,  the  sorrows  of  the  people  were 


248  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN   T, HE  ORIENT 

their  own.  They  stood  now  in  the  hot  sun,  day  after 
day,  with  no  shade  overhead.  When  a  group  of  diggers 
sat  down  for  a  short  rest  they  sat  with  them.  They  lis- 
tened to  stories  about  scattered  families,  and  about  those 
who  had  died.  There  was  always  the  wail,  "We  are  all 
dying."  Out  of  their  own  sorrow  they  spoke  comforting 
words.  Not  one  of  them  had  escaped  affliction.  Cholera 
had  been  abroad  for  some  time.  No  one  was  safe.  The 
wife  of  a  preacher,  going  with  him  to  the  camp,  lay  down 
by  the  roadside,  stricken,  and  died.  Others  in  the  camp 
were  as  sad  as  he.  The  roadsides  in  all  that  region  were 
lined  with  the  bleaching  bones  of  those  who  could  not  go 
further.  The  preachers  said  afterward,  "Our  hearts 
were  very  heavy,  and  our  Dhora's  hair  turned  white 
during  that  year." 

The  name  of  Jesus  was  spoken  all  day  long  from  one 
end  of  our  line  to  the  other.  The  preachers  carried  a- 
New  Testament  in  their  pockets.  It  comforted  the  peo- 
ple to  see  the  holy  book  of  the  Christians  amid  all  their 
distress.  They  said,  when  they  sat  down  for  a  shorf 
rest,  "Read  us  again  out  of  your  holy  book  about  the 
weary  and  heavy-laden."  That  verse,  "Come  unto  me, 
all  ye  that  labor" — was  often  all  I  had  to  give  the  people 
by  way  of  comfort.  The  preachers  were  saying  it  all 
day  long.  It  carried  us  through  the  famine.  It  was  the 
verse  of  the  ingathering.  We  all  needed  it ;  for  even  the 
strongest  among  us  sometimes  felt  their  courage  sinking. 

Thousands  of  Madigas  were  coming  and  going  who 
had  often  heard  about  our  Master,  Jesus,  but  had  put  off 
hearing  more.  Thus  far  they  had  wanted  above  all 
things  the  favor  of  the  caste  people  in  whose  service  they 
were;  they  had  faithfully  worshiped  the  village  gods. 
They  came  now  to  our  camp,  their  minds  filled  with 
dread  of  the  demons  and  fiends  whom  they  had  always 
tried  to  appease,  but  who,  they  thought,  were  now  let 


AN   INDIAN    FAMINE  249 

loose  to  slay  the  living.  The  preachers  talked  to  them 
about  Jesus  Christ.  They  described  to  them  how  he 
healed  the  sick ;  how  he  loved  little  children ;  how  he  fed 
a  multitude  of  people,  lest  they  grow  hungry  on  their 
way  home.  Those  stories  of  Jesus  sank  into  the  minds 
of  the  listeners  till  they  forgot  about  the  demons.  They 
began  to  think  about  Jesus  and  went  home  and  found 
they  believed  in  him. 

It  was  Christianity  applied  in  practice  on  our  portion 
of  the  canal.  The  weakest  were  cared  for  most.  There 
were  children  who  had  survived  their  parents,  and  were 
given  protection.  There  were  women  without  husband 
or  brother,  who  were  yet  safe  in  our  camp.  Those  who 
were  too  weak  to  work  were  given  food  just  the  same. 
All  were  treated  well — yet  they  were  Madigas.  They 
would  have  hesitated  to  go  to  any  other  camp.  The  caste 
man  could  deny  himself,  and  give  half  his  meal  to  a 
starving  man  of  his  own  caste.  He  would  feel  less  wil- 
lingness to  help  the  Pariah.  Now  the  caste  people  of  all 
that  region  took  notice.  They  watched  my  attitude.  My 
tent  was  a  little  to  one  side  of  the  village  of  huts.  It 
served  as  anchorage  to  the  camp.  The  preachers  had 
access  to  me  at  all  times.  The  coolies  took  courage  be- 
cause I  was  there  to  l>ok  out  for  them.  The  English 
officials  often  made  it  a  halting  place,  as  they  passed  that 
way  on  horseback,  inspecting  the  work.  They  took  tea 
with  me,  and  stayed  for  a  chat.  They  treated  me  as  one 
of  themselves,  and  I  appreciated  it.  They  were  a  fine 
type  of  Englishmen.  The  caste  people  decided  that 
though  "the  Ongole  Dhora  had  made  a  big  Madiga  of 
himself,"  he  had  not  thereby  lost  caste  with  the  men  of 
the  ruling  race,  since  they  came  and  ate  with  him.  The 
social  status  of  the  Madigas  was  rising.  The  contact 
between  West  and  East  here  shed  light  upon  the  Chris- 
tian sense  of  the  brotherhood  of  man. 


25O  SOCIAL    CHRISTIANITY   IN    THE   ORIENT 

March  passed,  and  with  April  the  hot  season  of  the 
year  began.  I  built  a  large  shed  over  my  tent,  with  a 
thick  covering  of  palm  leaves,  to  escape  the  danger  of  a 
sunstroke  during  the  middle  of  the  day.  There  was  no 
help  for  the  people.  Heat  was  not  dangerous  to  them, 
but  they  suffered  under  it.  Then  a  calamity  came  upon 
us.  My  diary  says : 

"May  17,  1877:  About  eight  in  the  evening  very  heavy 
rain  commenced — evidently  a  cyclone.  It  rained  fearfully 
all  night.  I  took  my  tent  full  of  old  people  and  women 
with  babies.  I  gave  them  Pain  Killer  and  covered  them 
up  with  common  blankets,  which  I  had  on  hand,  to  keep 
them  from  perishing  with  cold.  At  noon  the  rain  ceased. 
By  3  o'clock  two  rivers  came  down  in  force  and  ran  three 
or  four  feet  deep  over  all  my  pits.  At  midnight  the  water 
had  come  to  the  west  palm  leaf  shed  over  my  tent,  and  was 
one  and  a  half  miles  wide.  Many  of  the  huts  were  flooded 
and  I  expected  my  tent  would  be." 

All  this  was  hard  to  bear.  For  days  all  was  wet  and 
soaking,  while  the  water  was  slowly  receding.  The 
emaciated  bodies  of  the  coolies  were  not  fit  to  bear  this 
cold  dampness,  while  the  hot  rays  of  the  sun  beat  upon 
them,  with  no  shade  over  their  heads.  At  night  they 
huddled  together,  their  teeth  chattering,  wondering  when 
it  would  be  their  turn  to  die.  I  had  to  keep  up  my  own 
courage  by  continually  telling  them  that  the  Lord  Jesus 
makes  no  mistakes,  that  it  must  be  all  right  in  some  way. 
And  so  we  worked  on. 

The  hot  winds  came.  They  were  terrible  that  year, 
and  threatened  to  close  the  earthly  career  of  us  white 
men  who  had  thus  far  held  to  our  posts  without  flinching. 
The  thermometer  was  at  no  degrees  at  midnight.  The 
European  officers  in  tents  and  huts  along  the  canal  were 
falling  victims  to  this  heat;  four  died  of  sunstroke  in  a 


AN   INDIAN    FAMINE 

few  days ;  others  lay  very  ill  from  partial  sunstroke ;  the 
higher  officials  were  ordered  away.  The  preachers  grew 
alarmed  for  my  safety.  They  said,  "If  you,  too,  were  to 
die  or  fall  sick,  what  good  would  it  do  to  anyone  ?  What 
could  we  do  without  you,  with  the  famine  still  on  us? 
Go  back  to  Ongole  to  the  bungalow.  We  will  stay  and 
carry  on  everything  as  if  you  were  here.  If  we  get  into 
some  great  trouble  you  will  still  be  near  enough  to  help 
us." 

I  saw  that  they  were  right.  It  was  time  for  me  to 
withdraw.  I  knew  the  sub-engineer  of  that  part  of  the 
canal.  The  preachers  were  willing  to  work  under  his 
supervision.  I  gave  my  contract  over  to  him  and  re- 
turned to  Ongole.  The  work  continued  several  months 
longer.  I  was  in  touch  with  all  that  was  happening  at 
the  camp,  helping  several  times  when  an  emergency  arose. 
The  whole  stretch  of  more  than  one  hundred  miles  of 
canal  was  completed  in  August,  1877.  Afterward  the 
chief  engineer  of  our  section  of  thirty-five  miles  took  oc- 
casion to  write  to  me :  "I  am  glad  to  say  that  your  por- 
tion of  the  canal  is  the  best  on  the  whole  line.  It  is  so 
uniform,  and  cut  to  proper  depth  without  ups  and  downs 
as  everywhere  else." 

I  saw  from  the  Madras  papers  that  the  government 
was  instituting  relief  work  on  a  large  scale  here  and 
there  in  the  famine  area.  I  was  anxiously  hoping  that 
something  of  the  kind  would  be  opened  in  our  part  of 
the  country.  I  knew  the  executive  engineer,  J.  O'Shaugh- 
nessy,  Esq.,  who  carried  the  Buckingham  Canal  project 
through  with  admirable  skill.  I  wrote  to  him  about  a 
scheme  for  irrigation  on  a  large  scale.  Many  a  time, 
during  the  previous  years,  when  I  was  fording  the  rivers 
north  and  south  of  Ongole,  I  thought  that  all  this  water 
ought  to  be  utilized.  I  pointed  out  possible  ways  and 


252  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN   THE   ORIENT 

means  to  Mr.  O'Shaughnessy.    This  was  his  reply,  dated 
August  6,  1877: 

"I  have  often  thought  that  all  the  rivers  in  the  north, 
the  Munnair,  the  Palair,  the  Moosee,  and  the  Gundlacumma, 
could  be  turned  to  most  useful  account,  but  I  have  not  had 
a  moment  to  spare  for  investigating  what  should  be  done. 
Some  day,  no  doubt,  these  rivers  will  be  taken  up.  The 
quantity  of  water  that  escapes  by  them  to  the  sea,  year 
after  year,  or  even  month  after  month,  is  enormous,  while, 
as  you  know,  the  people  through  whose  lands  it  goes  away 
to  waste  would  give  their  lives  almost  to  be  able  to  store 
it  for  their  use.  I  sent  an  extract  from  one  of  your  letters 
to  the  government  and  I  have  been  informed  that  the  letter 
I  sent  with  it,  as  well  as  the  extract  itself,  have  been  sent  to 
the  secretary  of  state.  There  is  a  compliment  to  you,  and 
through  you  to  me.  Let's  hope  some  good  will  come  of  it." 

But  nothing  came  of  it.  The  scheme  was  considered 
too  expensive.  Down  to  the  present  time  all  that  water 
flows  into  the  sea.  Engineers  are  sometimes  sent  to  in- 
vestigate. They  hand  in  their  reports  and  by  reason  of 
expense  the  project  falls  through.  It  is  a  pity  that  it  was 
not  taken  up  at  that  time.  Large  sums  of  money  were 
expended  in  operations  of  that  kind :  roads  were  made, 
artificial  lakes  were  dug,  railroads  constructed,  and  many 
thousands  were  thus  helped.  It  was  the  better  way;  for 
there  is  a  difference  between  giving  a  man  the  money  he 
has  earned  and  putting  into  his  hand  the  dole  of  charity. 
The  saving  of  the  self-respect  of  the  people  was  an  object 
in  itself. 

We  had  now  gone  through  six  months  of  famine,  pre- 
ceded by  six  months  of  scarcity.  Twice  the  half-yearly 
monsoon  season  had  passed  with  cloudless  sky.  When 
the  cyclone  came  in  May,  bringing  floods  of  water,  the 
grass  sprang  up.  Much  grain  was  sown,  but  the  long- 


AN   INDIAN   FAMINE  253 

continued  hot  winds  withered  and  dried  up  everything. 
From  June  to  August  was  the  season  for  the  southwest 
monsoon.  Millions  were  praying  for  rain.  The  Hindus 
prayed  to  the  gods  of  the  land.  The  Mohammedans  be- 
sought Allah.  We  of  the  Christian  religion  begged  our 
God  to  send  rain.  The  time  passed.  No  rain  came. 
We  all  knew  that  now  it  had  become  a  case  of  hand-to- 
hand  fight  with  death. 

The  government  of  the  Madras  Presidency  already  had 
on  its  relief  works  nearly  a  million  people,  and  another 
million  was  fed  gratuitously  in  relief  camps.  In  the 
Bombay  Presidency,  and  in  the  native  states,  relief  on 
the  same  scale  was  going  on.  Yet,  great  as  these  figures 
of  those  obtaining  relief  may  seem,  they  were  small  com- 
pared to  the  forty  million  people  who  were  living  in  the 
famine  area,  eighteen  million  of  them  in  the  Telugu 
country.  Large  quantities  of  grain  continued  to  be 
brought  into  the  country  by  the  government.  An  in- 
creasing number  of  people  had  not  the  money  with 
which  to  buy.  An  organized  effort  had  to  be  made  to 
bring  money  into  India  and  into  the  hands  of  those  who 
needed  it  in  order  to  sustain  life.  Englishmen  rose  to 
the  emergency.  In  August,  1877,  a  meeting  of  promi- 
nent citizens  in  Madras  was  called.  The  governor  pre- 
sided. A  resolution  was  adopted  to  cable  to  the  lord 
mayor  of  London,  and  to  the  mayors  of  several  other 
large  cities  in  the  British  Isles,  requesting  immediate  aid, 
as  distress  was  great.  This  resulted  in  the  Mansion 
House  Fund — a  great  public  charity,  which  still  stands 
almost  unequaled.  For  nine  months  money  from  Eng- 
land and  the  colonies  came  pouring  into  India. 

When  those  Englishmen  appealed  to  their  mother 
country  for  help,  my  American  patriotism  rose  up  within 
me.  I  remembered  the  golden  corn  of  Iowa  and  Illinois. 
If  only  we  had  some  of  that  in  starving  India'  I  could 


254  SOCIAL    CHRISTIANITY   IN   THE  ORIENT 

not  keep  quiet  about  this.  I  knew  the  secretary  of  the 
board  of  revenue  in  Madras,  and  wrote  to  him  about 
that  abundance  in  America  which  could  so  easily  over- 
flow into  India.  I  told  him  about  American  farmers  in 
some  states  who  were  using  Indian  corn  for  fuel  because 
it  was  cheaper  than  coal.  I  suggested  a  cable  to  Presi- 
dent Hayes  and  to  the  governors  of  the  great  corn-grow- 
ing states.  I  said :  "I  know  America  and  Americans 
well.  It  is  not  their  nature  to  do  things  on  a  small  scale. 
They  have  so  much  money  that  thousands  of  them  do  not 
know  what  to  do  with  it.  To  give  it  to  India  now  in  this 
awful  calamity  would  not  only  do  us  good,  but  them 
also." 

This  letter  was  inserted  in  a  leading  Madras  daily 
paper.  There  was  a  long  editorial  about  it.  In  those 
years  the  nations  were  beginning  to  stand  by  each  other 
in  times  of  calamity.  England  had  shown  a  splendid 
helpfulness  at  the  time  when  a  terrible  fire  leveled  a  great 
portion  of  Chicago  to  the  ground.  The  editor  did  not 
doubt  that  Americans  would  be  swift  to  return  this 
good  will  to  England's  dependency.  But  there  was  no 
way  of  making  connection.  America  as  yet  had  few 
points  of  contact  with  India.  Spontaneous  gifts  there- 
fore were  few.  As  for  an  appeal  to  American  high  offi- 
cials, there  was  no  one,  either  individually  or  collectively, 
competent  to  urge  this  without  thereby  being  guilty  of 
discourtesy  to  the  supreme  government.  It  could  not  be 
done  at  that  time.  All  that  I  longed  for  came  to  pass  in 
1900  when  famine  was  again  afflicting  India.  Dr.  Louis 
Klopsch,  of  the  Christian  Herald,  of  New  York,  created 
a  channel  by  which  American  money  was  sent  to  India  in 
large  amounts.  Ships  laden  with  American  corn  came 
into  Bombay  harbor.  I  had  some  of  it  in  Ongole  and  dis- 
tributed many  bagsful  among  the  hungry.  International 
helpfulness  had  grown. 


AN    INDIAN    FAMINE  255 

Some  weeks  passed  before  the  "Mansion  House  Fund" 
was  in  full  operation.  It  was  hard  to  wait  for  the  relief 
it  brought.  My  diary  tells  of  times  when  I  sat  up  till 
midnight  after  a  hard  day's  work,  writing  letters  with 
appeals,  and  how  I  rose  at  four  in  the  morning  to  get  in 
some  hours  of  writing  before  the  people  woke  up  and 
began  to  besiege  me.  I  wrote  to  friends  in  America  and 
in  England.  I  appealed  to  the  missions  of  our  society 
in  Burma  and  Assam.  They  had  no  famine  there.  The 
Karen  Christians  in  Burma  began  to  deny  themselves  in 
order  to  send  help  to  their  starving  brethren  on  our  side 
of  the  Bay  of  Bengal,  when  they  heard  of  my  telegram, 
"Thousands  Christians  starving,  please  solicit  subscrip- 
tions." The  several  thousand  rupees  they  sent  helped  to 
tide  us  over  the  time  till  something  could  be  done  on  a 
larger  scale. 

Starving  men  and  women  were  dragging  themselves 
into  our  compound  wailing  for  help.  Sometimes  they 
lay  down  for  rest  when  they  had  reached  our  gate  and 
never  got  up  again.  I  was  on  my  feet  from  morning 
till  night  trying  at  least  to  give  a  hearing  to  those  who 
had  come  for  help,  and  paying  out  the  small  amounts 
which  friends  were  putting  into  my  hands  to  those  who 
needed  help  most.  When  I  told  them  I  had  nothing  more 
to  give  they  found  it  hard  to  believe  me.  I  was  to  many 
their  last  hope.  Almost  every  day  caste  people  came, 
walking  many  miles,  to  ask  me  to  buy  their  jewelry.  It 
was  the  custom  for  families  to  put  their  savings  into 
their  jewels.  As  the  native  dealers  would  not  give  a  fair 
price,  the  people  begged  me  to  buy,  and  at  least  to  help 
them  thus.  Otherwise  all  they  had  would  buy  food  only 
for  a  few  days.  It  was  hard  to  witness  the  distress. 

Again  we  were  approaching  the  monsoon  season.  This 
time  we  did  not  wait  in  vain.  In  October,  1877,  rain 
came.  It  was  an  abundant  monsoon.  The  government 


256  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY  IN  THE  ORIENT 

distributed  seed  grain.  Everyone,  no  matter  how  small 
his  plot  of  ground,  came  in  for  his  share — so  much  per 
acre.  Bullocks  and  buffaloes  were  gone;  men  hitched 
themselves  to  the  plow.  Some  had  sold  their  plow,  a 
crude  implement  of  wood;  it  had  bought  a  few  meals. 
They  now  took  crooked  branches  to  make  the  furrows 
and  carefully,  with  mantras,  they  dropped  in  the  seed. 
It  rotted  in  the  ground.  The  fields  were  sown  a  second, 
a  third,  and  in  some  cases  a  fourth  time.  At  last  the 
crops  looked  promising,  and  a  sense  of  relief  came  over 
us  all.  Then  grasshoppers  came  in  great  numbers.  Some 
fields  were  wholly  destroyed  by  them;  many  were  so 
badly  injured  that  not  more  than  one- fourth  of  a  crop 
could  be  expected.  Those  weeks  were  hard  .to  bear. 
The  fluctuating  between  hope  and  despair  tried  even  the 
strongest  and  bravest  among  us. 

The  supposition  is  that  the  famine  cost  more  than  three 
million  lives.  It  would  have  cost  many  million  more  but 
for  the  Mansion  House  Fund,  and  the  Englishmen  in 
Madras,  who  perfected  in  the  shortest  possible  time  a 
gigantic  organization  for  the  distribution  of  the  money. 
William  Digby,  Esq.,  editor  of  the  Madras  Times,  was 
from  the  beginning  a  leading  spirit  in  the  enterprise. 
He  now  served  as  honorary  secretary.  An  Executive 
Famine  Relief  Committee  was  formed  in  Madras  on 
which  twenty-five  leading  gentlemen  of  Madras  served. 
Many  of  them  were  business  men  who  gave  up  their  noon 
hours  to  the  careful  arrangement  of  the  large  financial 
transactions.  Leading  Hindus  and  Mohammedans,  who 
were  men  of  affairs,  were  on  this  committee.  The  wealth 
of  India  became  apparent  in  princely  donations  which 
came  especially  from  several  rajahs.  The  money  was 
not  by  any  means  the  gift  of  the  white  race  only.  Nor 
was  it  a  charity  conducted  on  a  large  scale  by  Protestant 
Christianity.  The  Roman  Catholic  Church  was  in  every 


AN    INDIAN    FAMINE  257 

way  represented.  It  was  a  scheme  that  was  all-inclusive. 
Men  forgot  their  differences  of  race  and  creed.  They 
stood  shoulder  to  shoulder  in  fighting  away  death  from 
millions  of  their  fellow-men. 

Over  all  the  famine-stricken  area  a  network  of  local 
committees  sprang  up  in  short  time.  Everyone  who 
could  serve,  and  had  the  will  to  do  it,  was  set  to  work. 
Here  again  the  doors  were  wide  open :  true  interest  for 
humanity  was  the  requisite.  A  large  number  of  mission- 
aries were  stationed  in  the  famine  area.  They  came  from 
several  continents  and  represented  many  differences  in 
their  beliefs  and  practices.  On  one  point  they  were  of 
one  mind :  They  wanted  to  help.  Everywhere  they 
joined  the  local  committees,  often  they  were  the  ones  on 
whom  the  main  burden  was  placed.  Their  compounds 
became  relief  camps  and  hospitals.  They  carried  help 
into  the  villages.  They  were  everywhere  and  stood  for 
all  that  was  humane  and  right.  In  some  cases  the  gen- 
eral committee  in  Madras  knew  of  no  one  in  a  given 
locality  who  could  relieve  the  suffering  but  some  mis- 
sionary residing  there. 

Our  Telugu  Mission  was  in  the  famine  area.  Our 
missionaries  bore  the  burdens  of  those  days.  Dr.  Downie 
was  honorary  secretary  and  treasurer  of  the  local  com- 
mittee in  Nellore.  I  held  a  similar  post  in  Ongole.  Our 
missionaries  in  Ramapatnam  living  in  the  Ongole  sub- 
division drew  on  me  for  funds  to  disburse.  Dr.  Albert 
Loughridge,  who  was  in  Ongole,  went  into  the  taluks 
where  our  Christians  lived  and  carried  help  to  them.  He 
served  on  our  local  committee  in  Ongole,  which  included 
our  submagistrate,  our  apothecary,  an  engineer  and  sev- 
eral native  gentlemen.  Our  first  remittance  came  early 
in  November,  1877.  I  had  asked  for  twenty-five  thou- 
sand rupees  to  distribute.  The  general  committee  sent 
us  fifty  thousand  rupees.  For  more  than  six  months  we 


258  SOCIAL    CHRISTIANITY    IN    THE   ORIENT 

were  now  engaged  in  disbursing  money.  Our  Ongole 
local  committee  rendered  account  at  stated  intervals  to 
the  Madras  general  committee.  The  amount  which 
passed  through  our  hands  was  approximately  one  hun- 
dred thousand  dollars. 

We  drew  on  every  available  agency  to  help  in  the  dis- 
tribution. Most  of  the  taluks  over  which  I  had  toured 
during  the  preceding  ten  years  were  in  our  subdivision. 
I  knew  many  of  the  village  officials.  This  helped  me  now 
in  placing  reliance  on  them.  Especially  in  the  distribu- 
tion of  seed  grain  the  village  officials  had  to  help  us ;  for 
they  could  easily  ascertain  how  many  acres  a  man  owned 
and  how  much  seed  grain  he  therefore  ought  to  be  given. 
Large  remittances  were  sent  to  the  tahsildars  of  our  ad- 
joining taluks. 

Our  mission  bungalow  was  the  scene  of  much  activity 
during  the  months  while  the  fields  were  sown  again  and 
again,  until  at  last  a  good  crop  was  ripening  for  harvest. 
Day  after  day  Mrs.  Clough  and  I  were  trying  to  meet 
the  demand  made  upon  us.  We  were  now  dealing  with 
caste  people,  with  Mohammedans,  especially  with  the  Su- 
dra  landowners,  when  they  came  for  seed  grain.  Many 
a  family  was  destitute  and  needed  a  few  rupees  to  make 
a  new  start  in  life.  I  sent  the  women  and  children  to 
Mrs.  Clough,  who,  with  a  force  of  helpers,  was  carrying 
on  relief  operations  on  the  west  side  of  our  bungalow. 
She  had  a  storeroom  there,  which  we  kept  full  of  grain, 
also  clothes  for  the  aged  and  medicines  for  the  sick.  I 
was  on  our  large  front  veranda,  accessible  to  everyone, 
with  a  staff  of  workers  to  help  me.  We  took  up  each  case 
separately.  Our  helpers  had  ascertained  the  detail,  and 
could  tell  the  people  how  to  state  in  a  few  words  what 
was  needed.  There  was  much  uniformity — all  had  gone 
through  the  same  experience  and  now  had  similar  needs. 
Special  cases  received  special  consideration. 


AN    INDIAN    FAMINE  259 

These  were  public  funds  which  we  were  distributing. 
There  was  an  exodus  from  the  villages  toward  Ongole. 
My  diary  speaks  of  times  when  there  must  have  been 
twenty  thousand  people  in  Ongole  asking  for  relief.  Our 
magistrate  sent  the  sergeant  and  five  constables  to  our 
compound  to  keep  order.  At  four  in  the  afternoon  he 
had  the  drum  beaten  up  and  down  the  streets,  and  a  crier 
told  the  people  to  go  to  their  homes,  as  no  more  money 
would  be  paid  on  that  day.  My  diary  now  and  then  has 
the  record  of  some  special  day.  On  one  of  these  Mrs. 
Clough  and  I  worked  steadily  for  five  hours,  and  found 
that  we  had  given  to  more  than  six  hundred  people  of  all 
castes  an  aggregate  of  nearly  four  thousand  rupees.  We 
placed  the  money  in  the  hands  of  those  for  whom  it 
was  intended,  or  legitimate  substitutes.  There  was  a 
possibility  often  that  the  people  were  deceiving  us  in  their 
statements.  They  had  gone  through  bitter  privation,  and 
the  silver  coins  in  our  hands  looked  inviting.  Yet  Mrs. 
Clough  and  I  were  not  new  in  the  country;  we  instinc- 
tively knew  when  we  were  told  a  lie.  The  helpers  who 
surrounded  us  could  detect  discrepancies  in  the  state- 
ments made.  Besides,  public  opinion  was  speaking  a 
word :  we  were  dealing  honorably  by  the  people — they 
felt  bound  to  deal  fairly  by  us. 

Month  after  month  our  compound  was  the  place  where 
hungry  people  came  to  whom  we  were  the  only  hope. 
The  Pariah  class  especially  besieged  us.  That  submerged 
tenth  of  the  population  in  our  region  would  nearly  have 
died  out  but  for  us.  Groups  of  them  lingered  near  the 
bungalow  day  after  day  :  hunger  was  gnawing.  We  had 
men  there  to  keep  order ;  the  people  evaded  their  control. 
After  Mrs.  Clough  and  I  had  done  our  utmost,  standing 
on  our  verandas  for  hours  at  a  time  giving  to  the  people, 
and  finally  had  gone  into  the  house  and  closed  the  doors, 
we  still  left  a  hungry  crowd  outside,  murmuring  against 


260  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN   THE  ORIENT 

us.  We  sat  down  to  our  simple  meal,  and  they  would 
have  snatched  our  food  if  they  could  have  done  it.  The 
servants  used  to  tell  afterward  how  they  had  to  watch 
their  opportunity  to  get  our  meals  from  the  cookhouse 
to  the  dining-room,  a  distance  of  twenty  yards.  They 
held  the  covered  dishes  high  over  their  heads  and  started 
on  a  run,  to  escape  the  clawlike  hands  that  were  stretched 
out.  That  whole  famine  was  an  experience  which  beg- 
gars description. 

Our  Christians  were  in  great  want.  Most  of  them 
could  find  no  work  to  do.  To  many  this  made  no  dif- 
ference; they  were  too  weak  to  work.  A  large  number 
were  sick.  Few  had  grain  to  eat.  Leaves,  herbs,  seeds 
of  grass,  and  weeds  were  greedily  used  as  food;  for  it 
was  all  they  could  get.  Many  died  in  consequence.  The 
small  children  of  Christians  died  in  great  numbers.  Our 
preachers  kept  themselves  informed.  They  gave  me  de- 
tailed account  of  how  matters  stood,  and  told  me  of  the 
Christian  villages  where  distress  was  greatest.  I  had 
money  in  hand,  given  by  Christian  friends  in  America, 
England  and  India,  with  the  request  that  it  be  used  for 
our  Christians.  I  knew  of  no  way  to  get  it  into  their 
hands  except  to  send  it  to  them  by  our  preachers.  I  felt 
great  hesitation;  for  I  feared  the  consequences  of  this 
course.  I  talked  it  over  with  them.  It  was  decided  that 
twenty  of  our  oldest  and  most  trusted  men  should  go 
on  this  errand,  carrying  help.  I  gave  to  each  several 
hundred  rupees,  according  to  the  number  of  destitute 
families  on  his  field. 

The  men  went  their  way,  some  forty,  some  sixty,  some 
eighty  miles  from  Ongole.  They  had  orders  to  write 
down  names  and  amounts  in  every  village  where  they 
made  disbursements,  and  to  get  a  receipt  in  each  case  for 
the  total  amount,  countersigned  by  the  village  officials, 
to  bring  back  to  me.  They  were  to  give  to  the  aged,  the 


AN    INDIAN    FAMINE  26l 

sick  and  the  helpless;  they  were  not  to  refuse  anyone 
they  met  on  the  way  starving  who  asked  for  enough  to 
buy  a  meal.  Theirs  was  a  hard  task.  They  found  men 
greedy  and  grasping  in  their  demand  for  help.  The  finer 
feelings  of  family  relationship  were  blunted  as  the  strong- 
er members  of  families  wrangled  with  the  aged  and  weak, 
and  begrudged  them  the  help  they  were  getting.  It  an- 
gered the  able-bodied  to  be  passed  by.  They  never  for- 
got it.  Our  preachers  complained  in  after  years  that 
their  position  had  thereby  been  reversed.  The  people, 
instead  of  providing  for  them  as  they  had  previously 
done,  were  now  inclined  to  resentment  because  help  was 
not  again  brought  to  them.  Starvation  is  an  experience 
that  drags  men  down.  Emaciated,  sick,  poor  beyond  ex- 
pression, our  Christians  had  to  regain  their  footing  when 
the  famine  was  over.  It  was  a  wonder  that  they  had  re- 
tained as  much  of  self-respect  and  independence  as  they 
had ;  for  it  was  a  terrible  experience.  The  famine  frus- 
trated much  of  my  hope  for  a  self-sustaining  mission.  I 
lost  ground  which  I  never  fully  regained. 

The  months  passed  and  the  distress  grew  less  and  less. 
Fair  crops  were  harvested.  There  was  fodder  for  cattle. 
By  the  middle  of  1878  the  people  began  to  lift  their  heads 
once  more  and  take  courage.  It  was  many  a  year  before 
the  traces  of  the  two  years  of  famine  disappeared.  The 
old  prosperity  was  slow  to  come  back.  Wealthy  families 
had  become  impoverished.  Villages  here  and  there  had 
partly  died  out.  The  children  who  survived  were  stunted 
in  growth.  There  were  faces  everywhere  that  never  lost 
the  look  of  starvation. 

Most  of  us  who  had  made  the  distress  of  the  people 
our  own  could  now  go  back  to  our  ordinary  pursuits. 
The  sense  of  human  fellowship  that  arose  among  us 
men,  who  were  banded  together  to  save  the  starving, 
gave  us  a  sustaining  strength.  We  all  were  upheld  by 


262  SOCIAL    CHRISTIANITY    IN    THE    ORIENT 

our  sense  of  duty,  which  with  most  of  us  was  nourished 
by  our  faith  in  God.  The  Hindus  and  Mohammedans 
were  guided  by  the  rules  of  their  religion,  which  com- 
mand them  to  aid  those  in  trouble.  They  lacked  or- 
ganizing capacity  in  their  benevolence.  With  amazement 
they  looked  on  as  we  of  the  white  race  put  all  our  practi- 
cal instincts  and  business  talents  to  work  in  carrying  on 
relief.  They  saw  how  we  drew  our  motive  largely  from 
the  religion  of  Jesus  Christ.  There  was  something  in 
this  that  many  a  thinking  man  among  the  higher  classes 
of  the  oriental  race  felt  he  wanted  to  absorb,  even  though 
he  desired  to  remain  faithful  to  his  own  religious  tenets. 
The  outcaste  classes  in  several  parts  of  South  India 
turned  to  Christianity  by  thousands.  Their  power  of 
believing  had  been  touched.  They  must  have  died  if 
the  followers  of  the  Christian  religion  had  not  saved 
them  from  starving.  They  discarded  their  idols  and 
came  to  Jesus  Christ. 


XVI 

NINE   THOUSAND   IN    SIX    WEEKS 

LONG  before  the  famine  was  at  an  end  I  knew  that 
thousands  were  believing  in  the  Lord  Jesus  and  were 
ready  to  ask  for  baptism.  I  knew  that  when  once  I 
opened  the  doors  of  the  church  to  the  people  they  would 
come  in  throngs.  If  was  my  intention  to  exercise  the 
greatest  care  and,  if  possible,  to  avoid  baptizing  in  large 
numbers. 

Regular  mission  work  had  practically  been  suspended 
while  we  all  bent  our  energies  toward  keeping  the  starv- 
ing alive.  The  village  schools  were  closed ;  the  preachers 
had  given  up  their  routine  work.  There  had  been  no 
baptism  since  March,  1877.  It  was  understood  by  all 
that  so  long  as  the  famine  lasted,  no  one  would  be  re- 
ceived. I  explained  to  the  preachers  my  reasons  for  this. 
They  were  not  as  clear  to  them  as  they  were  to  me.  How- 
ever, I  held  to  my  course. 

The  people  were  knocking  at  the  gates  of  the  church. 
They  made  themselves  heard.  Letters  came  pouring  in 
upon  me  voicing  the  request  of  groups  of  people — fam- 
ilies and  villages.  They  wanted  baptism.  Deputations 
from  villages  came,  some  a  distance  of  sixty  miles,  with 
village  elders  as  spokesmen.  They  assured  me  that  the 
request  of  the  people  was  sincere.  Their  minds  were  not 
fixed  on  rupees :  they  wanted  salvation  for  their  souls. 
There  was  much  similarity  in  their  statements.  They  all 
had  heard  the  preachers  and  me  tell  the  story  of  Jesus 

263 


264  SOCIAL    CHRISTIANITY    IN    THE   ORIENT 

before  the  famine,  but  had  not  heeded  what  we  said. 
Now,  however,  they  understood  better  about  our  religion. 
They  all  declared  they  would  ask  no  help  from  me ;  they 
only  begged  for  baptism.  They  wrote  or  said : 

"We  are  very  poor;  our  huts  are  fallen  down,  and  we 
have  not  much  to  eat  but  leaves ;  but  we  do  not  ask  you  for 
money.  We  will  not  ask  you  for  the  smallest  copper  coin, 
even  though  we  starve  to  death;  but  we  believe  in  Jesus, 
and,  as  he  commanded  us,  we  want  to  be  baptized.  We 
can  die,  if  it  be  God's  will ;  but  we  want  to  be  baptized  first. 
Be  pleased  to  grant  our  request,  and  do  not  put  us  off  any 
longer.  May  the  Lord  help  us  all !" 

Somehow  the  impression  had  gone  abroad  among  the 
people  that  they  could  not  be  received  into  the  heaven 
of  which  the  preachers  and  I  had  told  them  so  often,  un- 
less they  had  been  baptized.  Life  was  terribly  hard  for 
them ;  death  was  always  at  hand ;  they  wanted  at  least  to 
make  sure  of  the  joys  of  heaven.  I  let  them  feel  that 
their  request  was  heeded,  and  that  I  was  taking  a  deep 
interest  in  fiem  and  expected  them  to  continue  in  their 
faith  in  Jesus.  I  assured  them  that  the  Lord  Jesus  knew 
all  about  them,  and  that  if  any  one  of  them  prayed  to  him 
with  all  his  heart,  he  was  aware  of  it.  I  told  them  they 
need  not  fear  to  die,  even  though  not  yet  baptized;  for 
Jesus  would  know  them  at  once,  and  give  them  a  good 
place  in  his  holy  heaven,  where  neither  sorrow  nor  want 
could  touch  them.  This  comforted  them.  It  did  not 
reconcile  them  to  the  delay. 

During  those  months  of  waiting  the  preachers  and  I 
took  a  firm  hold  upon  the  situation.  I  knew  the  state  of 
the  whole  field ;  while  they  knew  their  own  portions  of  it 
intimately.  They  gave  me  detailed  accounts,  and  I 
helped  them  distribute  their  forces,  so  that  all  the  con- 
verts were  under  instruction.  I  wrote  of  them : 


NINE   THOUSAND   IN    SIX    WEEKS  265 

"In  the  meantime,  the  native  preachers  kept  a  careful 
record  of  all  believers,  and  taught  them  as  well  as  they 
could.  Each  preacher  seemed  to  have,  and  no  doubt  did 
have,  special  help  from  on  high  to  meet  all  the  demands 
of  the  occasion.  Weak  men,  just  able  to  read  the  Bible, 
preached  with  earnestness  and  power,  sometimes  continuing 
their  evening  meetings  until  morning ;  while  the  able  preach- 
ers of  former  years  each  became  a  host." 

The  preachers  were  ready  for  that  which  was  now 
before  us.  Our  three  thousand  Christians  were  ready. 
The  Ongole  church  was  in  a  condition,  spiritually,  that 
made  large  additions  to  its  numbers  possible.  The  faith 
of  all  had  been  severely  tested.  At  the  beginning  of  the 
famine,  especially,  many  of  the  caste  people  demanded 
of  the  Christians  that  they  should  give  up  this  new  relig- 
ion. It  was  said  over  all  that  region  that  the  demons  and 
fiends  of  the  land  had  gone  forth,  thirsting  for  the  lives 
of  men,  because  large  numbers  of  Madigas  had  disen- 
gaged themselves  from  propitiating  them  as  formerly. 
Not  only  had  the  rain  been  withheld,  but  the  demons  that 
strew  cholera  like  seed  over  the  land  had  broken  loose. 
They  were  angry — they  had  been  neglected  and  set  aside 
—there  was  only  one  remedy.  The  Madigas  must  return 
to  their  old-time  duties.  They  were  urged  to  beat  the 
drums  and  to  dance  the  sivam — the  dance  of  possession — 
so  that  the  demons  might  find  expression  through  them 
and  be  appeased.  It  often  took  courage  to  refuse.  Af- 
flicted twice  over,  through  hunger  and  through  the  hatred 
of  those  to  whom  they  had  to  look  for  employment,  the 
Christians  nevertheless  stood  firm.  When  the  famine 
began  I  could  write  of  them: 

"The  Christians,  though  in  great  distress,  are  firm  in  the 
faith.  I  have  not  heard  of  one  who  has  renounced  his  faith 
in  Jesus,  though  the  heathen  abuse  them  awfully  in  many 


266  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN   THE  ORIENT 

places,  and  charge  them  with  being  the  cause  of  the  famine, 
and  urge  them  to  return  to  the  gods  of  their  fathers.  I  am 
in  receipt  of  the  best  of  news  as  to  the  Spirit's  work  over 
the  Ongole  mission  field.  Many  are  believing  in  Jesus." 
(December  n,  1876.) 

Later,  when  the  famine  was  at  its  worst,  I  wrote : 

"As  for  the  Christians,  I  do  not  know  of  any  who  have 
actually  died  of  hunger,  though  probably  many  have  been 
attacked  with  cholera  brought  on  by  improper  food.  The 
Lord  has  been  very,  very  good  to  us  here.  Though  many 
have  died  and  gone  to  heaven,  though  all  have  suffered  from 
hunger,  and,  though  abused  by  heathen  and  told  that  they 
were  the  cause  of  the  famine,  I  have  not  yet  heard  of  a 
single  convert  denying  Jesus."  (April  10,  1877.) 

Thus  they  held  firmly  to  their  trust  in  Jesus  while  the 
mass  of  the  people  were  still  putting  their  trust  in  idols. 

"Idols  were  worshiped  at  the  beginning  of  the  famine 
freely,  enthusiastically;  and  Brahman  and  other  priests 
again  and  again  promised  rain,  seed  time,  and  harvest ;  but 
all  these  promises  had  proven  to  be  false.  By  the  beginning 
of  1878  the  mass  of  all  castes  and  creeds  were  convinced 
that  idols  could  not  help  them.  Had  they  not  cried  night 
and  day  for  well-nigh  two  years  to  their  gods  and  sacrificed 
to  them  time  and  again,  and  yet  the  rain  came  not  ?  Then 
when  it  did  come,  and  they  so  piously  sowed  the  seed,  not- 
withstanding all  their  mantras,  it  rotted.  Then  the  charity 
of  English  Christians  enabled  them  to  sow  their  fields 
again ;  but  their  idols  did  not  keep  the  grasshoppers  away. 
Many — and  the  aggregate  would  make  a  multitude — had 
so  lost  faith  in  the  gods  of  their  fathers  that  they  felt  that 
a  last  appeal  must  be  made,  even  to  Jesus  Christ,  as  the 
one,  the  only  living  God;  and  about  him,  and  how  to  call 
upon  him  so  as  to  be  heard,  the  most  orthodox  Hindus 
even  were  glad  to  listen." 


NINE   THOUSAND   IN    SIX    WEEKS  267 

The  general  opinion  at  the  close  of  the  famine  was 
that  Jesus  Christ,  as  the  God  of  the  English  and  Ameri- 
can people,  was  the  one  who  had  helped  his  followers  to 
cope  with  the  distress.  The  seed  grain  from  which  a 
harvest  had  finally  been  reaped  came  by  his  blessing.  The 
caste  people  felt  that  he  was  entitled  to  a  niche  in  the 
Hindu  Pantheon.  A  great  change  was  wrought  in  the 
minds  of  many  in  our  district.  The  essential  truths  of 
the  Christian  religion  were  well  understood  by  the  mass 
of  people,  of  whatever  caste.  Faithful,  though  un- 
learned, men  had  preached  everywhere  for  eleven  years. 
Bible  portions  and  tracts  had  been  for  sale  at  nominal 
cost  in  every  bazaar  of  the  Ongole  mission  field.  I  rea- 
lized that  the  spiritual  outlook  in  that  region  was  very 
different  in  many  respects  from  what  it  had  ever  been 
before.  But  there  was  no  actual  turning  to  Jesus  Christ 
among  the  caste  people.  The  Madigas  only  came. 

I  was  under  great  pressure  at  that  time.  My  own  con- 
victions dictated  one  course.  My  hesitation  on  account 
of  Christian  public  opinion  among  the  men  of  my  own 
race  dictated  another  course.  Mine  was  not  the  only 
mission  located  in  the  large  famine  area  which  had  to 
face  an  emergency  of  this  kind.  I  noticed  in  the  daily 
papers  in  India,  and  also  in  religious  journals,  that  there 
were  frequent  references  to  "rice  Christians"  as  a  result 
of  the  famine.  Often  there  were  critical  remarks  made 
in  a  somewhat  hostile  spirit.  If  this  was  done  where  the 
medium  course  of  enrollment  was  pursued,  surely  my 
course  of  letting  baptism  follow  upon  profession  of  faith 
would  be  open  to  much  comment.  Yet  I  was  a  Baptist 
minister  and  could  do  nothing  else.  I  looked  at  the  sub- 
ject from  every  point  of  view  during  those  months.  I 
was  slow  to  act,  until  events  forced  a  decision  upon  me. 

The  first  definite  demonstration  of  the  fact  that  I  was 
dealing  with  thousands  came  at  the  end  of  December, 


268  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN   THE  ORIENT 

1877.  We  were  at  that  time  hard  at  work  in  dis- 
tributing famine  relief  supplied  by  the  Mansion  House 
Fund.  Plentiful  rains  had  come,  but  adverse  conditions 
still  prevented  a  harvest.  I  had  issued  a  call  to  the 
preachers  to  come  to  Ongole  for  a  meeting,  and  had 
asked  them  in  my  letters,  in  emphatic  terms,  to  persuade 
the  people  to  stay  at  home.  My  hands  were  tied ;  I  could 
do  nothing  for  them,  and  was  unwilling  to  have  them 
come  to  Ongole  and  find  themselves  disappointed.  The 
preachers  did  their  best.  Some  rose  up  in  the  night  and 
started  while  all  were  sleeping.  Before  they  had  come 
many  miles,  they  found  that  hundreds  were  following 
them.  They  persuaded  many  to  go  back  to  their  villages. 
Nevertheless,  a  multitude  came. 

The  people  refused  to  stay  away.  They  came  throng- 
ing into  the  compound.  An  impression  had  gone  abroad 
that  I  was  going  to  institute  some  new  measure  of  relief 
by  which  they  could  work  and  live,  as  they  had  done  in 
our  camp  on  the  canal.  We  gathered  them  together  and 
I  talked  to  them.  I  told  them  that  I  had  no  work  for 
them.  They  were  sorely  disappointed.  Then  those  who 
had  come  to  ask  for  baptism  raised  their  voices.  From 
every  portion  of  the  crowd  before  me  the  cry  rose :  "Bap- 
tize us !  We  all  are  going  to  die  of  hunger !  Baptize  us 
first !"  I  was  in  a  hard  place.  I  could  see  that  my  rea- 
sons for  refusing  them  did  not  convince  them.  The  con- 
verts and  the  preachers  were  willing  to  trust  me;  they 
took  for  granted  that  I  would  do  what  was  right  by  them. 
It  was  not  possible  for  me  to  explain  to  them  fully  the 
motives  for  my  hesitation.  I  told  them  that  I  believed 
they  were  telling  me  the  truth  about  their  faith  in  Jesus 
Christ.  I  prayed  with  them,  and  committed  them  to  his 
care. 

To  send  these  people  home,  walking  the  weary  miles 
back,  hungry,  fainting  by  the  way,  disappointed  twice 


NINE   THOUSAND   IN    SIX    WEEKS  269 

over,  was  something  which  I  could  not  do.  As  yet  there 
had  been  no  harvest.  They  were  managing  somehow  to 
keep  body  and  soul  together.  Hungry  they  were  when 
they  came,  yet  they  were  patient.  They  did  not  clamor 
for  help;  they  clamored  for  work,  and  part  of  them  for 
baptism.  I  asked  the  preachers  to  count  them.  There 
were  about  three  thousand;  half  of  that  number  were 
Christians.  I  knew  I  was  mingling  temporal  help  with 
spiritual  demands.  I  saw  no  other  way  to  do.  Not  even 
Jesus,  my  Master,  was  willing  to  let  the  multitude  go 
hungry — hence  the  loaves  and  fishes.  In  an  orderly  way 
we  arranged  it,  so  that  I  could  put  a  small  coin  into  the 
hand  of  each  person,  enough  to  keep  them  from  starving 
on  the  way  home.  They  said  salaam  and  went.  This 
was  on  December  24,  1877. 

Perhaps  what  I  had  done  was  not  right.  At  any  rate, 
it  was  made  impossible  for  me  to  repeat  it.  I  now  was 
hedged  in  by  two  forces,  one  representing  the  most  dem- 
ocratic type  of  Christianity,  the  other  the  most  hierar- 
chical. The  spokesman  of  the  one  was  Dr.  Warren;  the 
spokesman  of  the  other  was  a  Roman  Catholic  priest. 

On  the  day  when  I  sent  home  the  fifteen  hundred  who 
had  knocked  so  loudly  at  the  door  of  our  church  I  learned 
that  Father  Theophilus  Mayer,  a  Roman  Catholic 
priest,  was  staying  at  the  traveler's  bungalow  in  Ongole. 
There  were  Christians  belonging  to  his  church  in  a  num- 
ber of  villages  at  some  distance  from  Ongole,  yet  in  our 
subdivision.  I  knew  that  he  had  been  passing  back  and 
forth,  carrying  relief  to  them.  The  secretary  of  the 
Mansion  House  Fund  also,  some  weeks  previously,  had 
called  my  attention  to  this  fact.  He  wanted  me  to  invite 
Father  Mayer  to  join  our  local  committee,  so  that  not 
even  a  seeming  distinction  of  race  or  creed  might  be 
made.  I  now  took  action  in  the  matter.  I  wrote  him  an 
official  letter  and  invited  him  to  become  a  member  of 


270  SOCIAL    CHRISTIANITY    IN    THE    ORIENT 

our  local  committee.  His  reply,  dated  December  24, 
1877,  is  still  among  my  papers.  According  to  my  diary, 
he  took  dinner  with  us  on  the  next  day,  being  Christmas. 
We  had  a  long  talk.  He  placed  himself  in  line  with  us 
and  called  on  me  for  funds  to  distribute  in  that  region. 
Repeatedly,  in  passing  through  Ongole,  he  was  our  guest. 

He  was  a  man  a  good  deal  above  the  average  in  nat- 
ural equipment.  I  remember  saying  to  him,  "Mayer, 
they  will  yet  make  a  bishop  of  you."  I  was  correct  about 
this.  Early  in  his  career  the  Pope  appointed  him  Aux- 
iliary Bishop  in  Madras.  His  death,  widely  regretted, 
cut  short  further  advancement.  In  a  friendly  way  I  tried 
to  convert  him  and  make  him  what  I  considered  a  good 
Christian.  He,  in  turn,  tried  to  show  me  the  error  of 
my  ways.  I  remember  well  how  he  told  me  that  I  was 
out  of  my  rightful  place  among  the  Baptists,  and  that  if 
I  would  become  a  Roman  Catholic,  even  though  a  man 
with  a  family,  I  would  be  given  a  place  I  could  well  fill. 
As  men  we  felt  that  we  had  much  in  common.  In  our  re- 
ligious connections  we  both  were  working  with  our  ut- 
most zeal.  Perhaps  I  am  not  mistaken  in  saying  that  we 
looked  regretfully  at  each  other  across  the  gulf  of  ec- 
clesiastical difference  that  lay  between  us,  and  wished  we 
could  join  hands. 

When  a  few  days  had  passed  after  that  decisive  De- 
cember 24th,  I  received  a  letter  from  Dr.  Warren,  which 
stirred  me  deeply.  I  had  no  need  of  telling  him  what  was 
coming  to  pass  in  the  Ongole  Mission.  Living  on  the 
other  side  of  the  world,  he  was  describing  it  to  me  a  full 
month  in  advance.  Only  a  few  sentences  from  this  letter 
have  been  preserved: 

"You  have  been  gathering  the  ones,  the  fives,  the  tens, 
the  twenties.  All  right;  all  as  it  should  be;  all  as  it  must 
from  the  necessities  of  the  case  be.  That  dispensation  you 


NINE   THOUSAND  IN    SIX    WEEKS 

must  pass  through  to  prepare  you  for  another  and  grander 
one :  the  dispensation  of  hundreds  and  thousands  in  a  day, 
so  to  speak.  They  will  come,  so  many  of  them,  in  groups, 
v/hole  villages,  whole  districts  at  once,  that  you  will  not 
know  what  to  do  with  them  or  with  yourselves." 

I  began  to  feel  the  backing  of  the  men  of  my  denom- 
ination. If  Dr.  Warren  was  with  me  I  could  count  on 
the  rest.  He  had  a  way  of  sitting  quietly  in  denomina- 
tional councils,  listening  to  others.  At  a  decisive  point 
a  few  sentences  from  him  changed  the  current  of  the  dis- 
cussion— men  followed  his  lead.  In  his  letter  at  this  time 
his  spirit  touched  mine.  I  wrote  a  full  reply,  and  told 
him  that  his  prophetic  words  were  already  fulfilled.  I 
described  the  recent  occurrence  in  our  compound  and 
gave  him  my  reasons  for  refusing  the  people. 

Then  came  a  long  letter  which  he  had  written  slowly 
at  intervals  on  his  bed;  for  he  often  had  times  of  much 
suffering.  It  reached  me  May  12,  1878,  when  the  crisis 
in  my  mission  was  coming  closer  and  closer.  To  me  it 
was  a  document  of  great  value.  I  tied  it  in  a  package 
with  other  letters  from  Dr.  Warren.  It  was  kept  in  a 
place  which  I  considered  safe.  I  went  to  it  one  day  and 
found  a  small  heap  of  dust  where  that  package  had  been. 
The  white  ants  had  destroyed  it.  Like  a  true  westerner, 
I  was  fond  of  my  horse  and  relied  on  it,  but  I  have 
often  said  that  I  would  rather  have  lost  my  horse  than 
to  have  lost  that  package  of  letters.  In  a  newspaper 
article  of  that  year  the  following  extract  from  that  de- 
cisive letter  was  made: 

"But  suffer  me  to  say  it  to  you,  and  you  may  tell  it  to 
whom  you  will,  shut  not  down  the  gate!  I  tell  you  God  is 
in  this  thing,  as  he  was  in  the  miracles  of  Jesus.  No, 
Brother,  do  not  shut  down  the  gate,  let  whoever  else  will 
do  so  wicked  a  thing." 


272  SOCIAL    CHRISTIANITY   IN    THE   ORIENT 

Another  sentence  in  the  letter  stands  out  boldly  in  my 
memory  and  I  have  often  quoted  it.  He  wrote : 

"Brother  Clough,  what  is  this  that  I  hear  of  your  refus- 
ing to  baptize  those  who  sincerely  ask  for  the  ordinance? 
Who  has  given  you  a  right  to  do  this?  You  know  how 
Table  Rock,  after  hanging  over  that  mighty  precipice  at 
Niagara  Falls  for  ages,  lately  fell  into  the  abyss  beneath, 
never  to  be  seen  again.  Thus  you  will  drop  out  of  sight 
if  you  continue  to  stand  in  the  way  and  refuse  to  adminis- 
ter God's  ordinances,  no  matter  what  your  motives  may 
be." 

This  moved  me  profoundly.  For  Dr.  Warren,  of  all 
men,  thus  to  warn  me  gave  me  a  sense  of  fear.  Events 
were  pressing-  upon  me,  no  doubt.  But  I  did  not  lack 
guidance.  Here  was  a  man  who  spoke  to  me  with  all  the 
authority  of  a  teacher — of  a  prophet.  I  knew  he  was 
right.  I  was  bound  to  render  a  full  and  loyal  obedience. 
Officially  our  relations  had  ceased  eight  years  before. 
In  a  deeper,  spiritual  sense  I  revered  him  as  my  superior. 

Some  weeks  passed.  The  days  were  crowded  with 
work.  I  was  daily  giving  out  seed  grain.  There  was 
still  a  balance  in  my  hands  of  funds  placed  at  our  dis- 
posal from  the  Mansion  House  Fund  to  relieve  the  suf- 
fering that  lingered  on  long  after  the  actual  famine  was 
over.  Nothing  further  had  occurred  to  force  a  decision 
upon  me.  I  was  waiting  to  let  matters  take  their  course, 
ready  to  act  as  soon  as  all  relief  had  stopped  and  no  one 
need  therefore  doubt  the  motives  of  applicants  for  bap- 
tism. 

Something  now  happened  that  urged  me  into  immedi- 
ate action.  A  month  had  passed  since  I  received  Dr. 
Warren's  decisive  letter.  Then,  on  June  15,  I  learned 
that  Father  Mayer  and  another  priest  had  come  to  Ongole 
on  their  itineracy,  and  were  staying  at  the  traveler's 


JONAH  G.  WARREN,  D.D. 

"Here  was  a  man  who  spoke  to  me  with  all  the  authority  of  a  teacher — a 
prophet.  .  .  .  Officially  our  relations  had  ceased  eight  years  before.  In  a 
deeper,  spiritual  sense  I  revered  him  as  my  superior.  .  .  .  I  was  bound  to 
render  a  full  and  loyal  obedience.  .  .  . 


NINE   THOUSAND  IN    SIX    WEEKS  2/3 

bungalow.  The  inhabitants  of  Ongole  during  the  past 
six  months  had  come  to  look  on  Father  Mayer  as  a  man 
who  was  working  in  connection  with  me.  They  saw 
that  there  was  fellowship  between  us.  Concerning  the 
differences  that  divided  us,  not  even  the  most  intelligent 
of  the  people  had  a  clear  idea.  Our  Madigas  took  it  for 
granted  that  he  was  a  man  of  the  same  Christian  religion 
to  which  I  belonged.  When  those  who  had  repeatedly 
asked  me  for  baptism  now  spoke  to  him  about  their  de- 
sire for  church  membership  he  gave  them  a  sympathetic 
hearing.  I  heard  of  this.  The  crisis  was  now  on  me. 

I  lost  no  time.  I  went  to  the  traveler's  bungalow  to 
talk  with  the  two  priests.  It  was  all  done  in  an  amicable 
spirit,  but  it  is  safe  to  say  that  I  never  worked  harder 
during  any  two  hours  of  my  life  than  I  did  during  that 
interview.  In  a  straightforward  way  they  told  me  that 
their  bishop  considered  it  an  anomaly  that  thousands  of 
converts  should  be  kept  waiting,  asking  repeatedly  for  ad- 
mission into  the  church,  only  to  be  met  with  a  continued 
refusal.  Their  church  was  having  large  accessions  in 
other  parts  of  the  famine  area.  They  intimated  to  me 
that  if  the  religious  body  to  which  I  belonged  could  not, 
on  principle,  allow  me  to  cope  with  this  situation,  their 
church  had  no  such  restrictions.  During  the  past  months 
they  had  reported  the  condition  of  the  field  to  their 
bishop.  They  had  held  back,  expecting  that  I  would  take 
action.  But  now  they  had  orders  to  gather  this  harvest, 
since  no  one  else  did. 

I  appealed  to  their  sense  of  justice.  I  told  them  they 
had  come  to  reap  where  they  had  not  sown,  and  that  it 
was  unfair,  and  all  the  world  would  say  so.  I  told  them 
that  the  Baptist  denomination  in  America  had  supported 
the  Telugu  Mission  for  forty  years  and  that  the  converts 
who  were  waiting  for  baptism  had  been  taught  by  their 
agencies.  I  spoke  of  the  dissensions  which  were  bound 


274  SOCIAL    CHRISTIANITY    IN    THE   ORIENT 

to  come  if  they  persisted.  The  Madigas  in  many  villages 
would  be  divided  into  two  factions  of  the  Christian  re- 
ligion. Even  members  of  the  same  households,  not 
understanding  the  difference  at  the  time,  would  find  after- 
ward that  they  had  been  separated  from  each  other. 

I  asked  them  to  wait  a  few  months.  They  told  me  that 
they  were  now  on  their  way  north,  to  a  council,  where 
they  would  meet  their  bishop.  In  one  month's  time  they 
would  be  ready  to  come  back.  They  were  willing  to  lay 
this  matter  before  their  superiors  once  more,  and  if  per- 
mitted to  do  so  they  would  delay  in  their  return.  This 
was  a  small  margin  of  time  granted  to  me  in  which  to 
handle  a  situation  that  involved  ten  thousand  converts  to 
Christianity.  It  was  all  I  could  get,  and  I  was  glad  to 
get  even  that. 

I  want  to  say  now,  at  the  close  of  my  life,  that  Mayer 
dealt  honorably  by  me.  He  had  it  in  his  power  to  cripple 
the  Telugu  Mission.  Certain  advantages  over  us  had 
come  to  him  almost  unbidden.  He  did  not  use  them :  he 
withdrew.  There  were  no  rival  baptisms,  no  dissensions, 
and  there  was  no  proselytism.  The  story  of  Mayer's  con- 
tact with  our  mission  at  one  point  in  its  history  is  the 
story  of  a  just  and  fair  course  of  action. 

My  own  plans  had  to  go.  My  action  was  hastened. 
What  I  intended  to  spread  over  six  months  I  did  in  six 
weeks.  Perhaps  this  was  what  my  Master,  Jesus,  wanted 
me  to  do.  I  can  see  now,  as  I  look  back,  that  it  was 
necessary,  perhaps,  to  bring  some  pressure  to  bear  upon 
me ;  for  I  do  not  deny  that  I  shrank  from  the  load  that 
was  laid  upon  my  shoulders. 

The  day  after  that  interview  in  the  traveler's  bungalow 
was  a  Sunday.  Our  chapel  was  full ;  an  overflow  meeting 
was  held  outside  under  the  margosa  trees.  My  text  was : 
"Awake  thou  that  sleepest,  and  arise  from  the  dead." 


NINE   THOUSAND   IN    SIX    WEEKS  275 

After  the  sermon  I  told  the  congregation  that  in  the 
afternoon  an  inquiry  meeting  would  be  held,  with  a  view 
to  baptism  afterward.  I  asked  those  who  were  heads  of 
households,  and  those  who  were  village  elders  of  the 
hamlets  surrounding  Ongole  to  come  first.  I  wanted  the 
leading  men  in  the  Madiga  community  of  our  vicinity  to 
make  the  beginning.  They  had  often  requested  me  to 
receive  them.  I  told  them  the  time  had  now  come.  They 
were  ready.  My  diary  for  June  16,  1878,  says:  "We 
baptized  102  to-day,  74  of  these  were  heads  of  families, 
all  men  from  Ongole."  Now  scarcely  a  day  passed  with- 
out examination  of  candidates,  followed  by  baptism.  I 
made  the  following  statement  in  the  official  report  to  our 
missionary  society  for  that  year : 

"For  fifteen  months — from  March  n,  1877,  to  June  16, 
1878 — we  had  not  baptized  a  single  person.  Some  here 
in  Ongole,  and  about  Ongole,  whom  I  had  known  personally 
for  ten  or  twelve  years,  I  was  fully  convinced  were  new 
creatures  in  Christ  Jesus.  It  seemed  to  me  my  duty  to  bap- 
tize them.  I  felt  that  I  must,  or  fail  to  please  Jesus.  On 
Sunday,  June  16,  we  raised  the  gate.  When  it  was  up  we 
found  it  impossible,  according  to  our  sense  of  duty  to  shut 
it  down  again.  In  fact,  to  own  the  truth,  I  feared  to  do  so. 
I  felt  that  those  whom  I,  or  trustworthy  assistants  and  well- 
known  church  members — pillars  of  the  church — had  known 
for  months  or  longer,  and  who  gave  evidence  that  they 
had  not  only  left  idolatry,  but  also  believed  in  Jesus  as  their 
Saviour,  must  be  baptized,  or  that  I  must  give  up  my  com- 
mission, and  get  out  of  the  way ;  of  course,  I  had  no  idea 
of  doing  either.  I  only  wanted  to  keep  the  multitude  of 
converts  off  two  or  three  months  longer,  that  all  the  friends 
of  missions  might  be  free  from  doubts,  although  personally 
I  had  been  convinced  for  above  a  year  that  the  work  was 
of  God.  But  to  delay  was  impossible,  for  God's  time  had 
fully  come  to  glorify  himself." 


276  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY  IN   THE   ORIENT 

The  tidings  now  went  over  the  country  that  the  gates 
of  the  church  had  been  raised.  Call  after  call  came  from 
groups  of  believers,  far  and  near.  A  staff  of  some  of 
our  most  competent  preachers  was  working  with  me, 
especially  our  ordained  men.  The  converts  from  one 
village  or  group  of  villages  after  another  came  to  On- 
gole.  We  gave  our  full  attention  to  them.  We  talked 
with  each  person  individually,  and  required  of  each  one  a 
statement  of  belief  in  Jesus  as  his  Saviour.  We  ascer- 
tained by  questions  how  much  of  Christian  teaching  had 
been  intelligently  grasped.  The  Christian  village  elders 
cooperated  with  us.  They  could  bear  testimony  to  the 
outward  evidence  of  Christian  life  in  the  candidates.  In 
this  careful,  deliberate  way,  we  baptized  nearly  2,000 
converts  during  the  remaining  two  weeks  of  June,  nearly 
all  of  them  living  within  a  radius  of  twenty  miles  of 
Ongole. 

Letters  and  messengers  and  deputations  were  coming 
from  every  part  of  the  field.  The  people  wanted  to 
know  when  it  would  be  their  turn.  The  preachers  asked 
me  to  tell  them  my  plans.  They  felt  the  pressure.  I 
did  not  see  my  way  clearly,  and  wanted  to  confer  with 
them.  It  was  necessary  that  there  should  be  full  under- 
standing among  us  all,  and  concerted  action,  not  only 
in  receiving  the  candidates  into  the  church,  but  in  caring 
for  them  afterwards.  I  was  not  satisfied  with  the  dis- 
organized state  of  our  work,  and  wanted  some  of  our 
former  stability  to  come  into  evidence  as  soon  as  pos- 
sible. Our  more  than  forty  village  schools  were  all 
broken  up  when  the  famine  began.  The  thatch  which 
had  covered  the  schoolhouses  had  been  fed  to  the  starv- 
ing buffaloes.  The  heavy  rains  had  finished  the  work 
of  devastation.  I  had  money  in  hand,  to  rebuild  the  old 
schoolhouses  and  erect  thirty-five  new  ones  in  as  many 
villages.  These  were  needed  as  rallying  places  for  the 


NINE   THOUSAND   IN    SIX    WEEKS  277 

Sunday  meeting's  of  our  Christians.  Other  preparation 
was  needed  before  receiving  large  accessions.  All  this 
I  wanted  to  talk  over  with  the  preachers. 

I  hesitated  to  call  a  meeting.  If  the  preachers,  six 
months  before,  were  unable  to  keep  the  people  from  com- 
ing with  them,  I  feared  the  same  contingency  would  arise 
this  time.  Moreover,  the  inhabitants  of  Ongole  had  been 
murmuring  against  me  because  such  numbers  of  people, 
and  of  the  poorest  class,  were  constantly  coming  to 
Ongole  from  every  direction  to  see  me.  The  fear  that 
cholera  and  smallpox  might  be  brought  in  from  outside 
was  not  without  foundation.  Amid  so  much  uncer- 
tainty, I  became  convinced  that  that  meeting  must  be 
held  somewhere  at  a  distance  from  Ongole.  There  was 
a  little  town,  Vellumpilly,  ten  miles  north  of  Ongole,  on 
the  main  road.  It  would  save  many  of  our  workers  ten 
miles  of  walking  if  we  met  there.  A  traveler's  bungalow 
would  afford  shelter  to  me,  and  there  was  a  grove 
of  tamarind  trees  close  to  it,  giving  shade  to  all.  We 
sent  letters  to  the  preachers  and  teachers  to  come  to 
this  place  on  a  given  date.  I  urged  them  to  per- 
suade the  converts  to  be  patient  a  little  longer.  We  were 
prepared  now  to  take  up  their  case,  and  would  soon 
inform  them  of  our  plans  on  their  behalf. 

The  time  came.  The  first  preachers  arrived  at  Vel- 
lumpilly and  sent  an  urgent  messenger  to  me.  They 
had  done  their  utmost  to  keep  the  people  from  coming, 
yet  thousands  were  either  there  or  on  the  way.  Not 
a  preacher  arrived  but  there  were  hundreds  with  him. 
The  numbers  were  already  overwhelming.  I  hastened 
off,  determined  to  do  all  in  my  power  to  get  the  people 
to  go  back  to  their  homes.  Starting  before  dawn,  I 
reached  Vellumpilly  in  the  early  morning.  I  found  four 
of  the  preachers  there  in  advance  of  the  rest,  anxiously 
looking  for  me,  and  with  them  were  between  two  and 


2/8  SOCIAL    CHRISTIANITY   IN    THE   ORIENT 

three  thousand  people.  More  were  coming;  for  the 
preachers  from  the  Kanigiri,  Podili  and  Cumbum  taluks 
had  not  yet  arrived.  If  the  men  who  had  already  come 
had  not  been  able  to  keep  the  converts  from  coming  with 
them,  it  was  not  to  be  expected  that  the  rest  would  be 
more  successful. 

My  first  thought  was  that  I  must  do  something  to 
make  them  all  willing  to  turn  back  to  their  villages. 
Many  were  among  the  fifteen  hundred  who  had  come 
to  Ongole  six  months  before  and  had  then  been  sent 
home.  They  all  had  been  in  our  camp  on  the  canal 
during  the  famine.  They  had  been  together  there,  and 
they  were  together  here.  They  were  not  afraid  of  num- 
bers. Moreover,  they  had  a  feeling  that  my  hesitation 
with  regard  to  receiving  them  was  unfair.  They  had 
worked  their  way  through  the  famine — it  had  been 
hard  work.  The  men  had  hands  that  showed  that  they 
had  used  pick  and  shovel.  The  women  had  carried  the 
baskets  of  earth  on  their  heads  till  their  hair  was  worn 
off.  As  for  actual  famine  charity,  they  had  received 
almost  nothing.  They  now  were  determined  to  be 
treated  as  people  who  had  toiled  with  their  hands.  They 
were  bound  to  make  me  and  everybody  else  understand 
that  they  were  seeking  salvation  for  their  souls. 

I  decided  to  preach  to  them,  to  strengthen  their  faith, 
and  then  to  ask  them  to  return.  On  one  side  of  the 
traveler's  bungalow  there  were  large  banyan  trees,  which 
gave  shade.  The  preachers  seated  the  people  on  the 
sandy  ground  under  the  trees.  There  was  a  wide  wall, 
four  feet  high,  around  the  bungalow.  I  mounted  this 
as  a  pulpit.  We  sang  several  of  our  best  known  hymns. 
Most  of  the  people  had  not,  until  recently,  known  how  to 
sing,  but  they  joined  heartily.  I  preached  to  them  for 
an  hour  on  that  verse  which  they  had  heard  so  often 
during  their  stay  in  our  camp  on  the  canal:  "Come 


NINE   THOUSAND  IN    SIX    WEEKS  2/9 

unto  me  all  ye  that  labor  and  are  heavy  laden,  and  I 
will  give  you  rest."  It  struck  the  keynote  of  the  in- 
gathering. 

They  gave  me  close  attention.  When  I  came  to  the 
point,  however,  where  I  requested  them  now  to  go  home 
to  their  villages,  to  be  good  Christians,  and  serve  our 
Lord  Jesus  faithfully,  I  met  with  opposition.  Voices 
were  raised  against  me.  There  was  the  murmur  of 
dissent.  I  told  them  I  had  no  more  famine  help  to  give 
them.  Then  the  cry  rose  from  every  portion  of  the 
crowd :  "We  do  not  want  help.  By  the  blisters  on  our 
hands  we  can  prove  to  you  that  we  have  worked  and  will 
continue  to  work.  If  the  next  crop  fail,  we  shall  die. 
We  want  to  die  as  Christians.  Baptize  us,  therefore!" 

I  stood  there  on  the  wall,  looking  into  their  faces. 
They  were  holding  up  their  hands  to  show  me  the 
callous  places  in  them,  that  had  come  by  digging  that 
canal.  I  knew  they  were  telling  me  the  truth.  They 
had  received  few  gifts  of  charity  during  the  famine. 
They  saw  my  hesitation.  Again  came  the  same  cry: 
"Baptize  us!  We  ask  for  nothing  else!"  Not  a  word 
could  I  say  to  them  in  reply. 

I  came  down  from  that  wall  and  left  them  sitting  out 
there  on  the  ground,  under  the  trees.  I  went  into  the 
bungalow.  Here  now  I  faced  the  crisis.  I  called  in 
the  four  preachers,  the  teachers,  and  the  Christian  vil- 
lage elders  who  had  come.  I  talked  with  them.  I 
understood  their  side  of  the  situation,  but  could  not  ex- 
pect them  to  comprehend  the  reasons  for  my  hesitation. 
They  could  only  dimly  grasp  the  doubts  that  held  me 
back. 

The  strong  tie  of  our  close  relation  in  the  years  that 
had  passed  now  asserted  itself.  There  was  Sreeram 
Solomon,  whom  I  persuaded  ten  years  before  to  come 
to  our  school.  He  had  become  one  of  our  best  men. 


28O  SOCIAL    CHRISTIANITY    IN    THE   ORIENT 

In  our  camp  at  the  canal  he  had  taken  a  leading  part, 
and  had  always  been  a  man  on  whom  I  could  rely.  He 
now,  with  another  preacher,  had  come  from  the  Darsi 
taluk,  followed  by  a  large  contingent  of  Darsi  people, 
who  had  walked  the  forty  miles  regardless  of  protest. 
There  was  Baddepudy  Abraham,  one  of  the  twenty- 
eight  whom  I  baptized  at  Tallakondapaud  when  I  first 
began  work  in  Ongole.  He  told  me  that  as  a  lad  in 
our  school  he  read  about  the  3,000  at  Pentecost,  and 
made  up  his  mind  to  work  till  he  saw  that  same  thing 
come  to  pass  at  Ongole.  Some  weeks  previously  he  had 
told  me  there  must  be  3,000  waiting  in  the  taluks  where 
he  had  since  then  labored  as  an  evangelist.  Numbers 
of  them  had  refused  to  wait  longer,  and  were  out  there 
now,  under  the  trees;  baptism  was  all  they  wanted. 

I  had  known  that  thousands  were  waiting.  It  is  one 
thing  to  know  that  something  is  ahead;  it  is  another 
thing  to  see  it  actually  before  our  eyes.  I  realized  that 
in  all  fairness  I  could  not  ask  the  people  to  wait  longer. 
If  I  now  disregarded  their  request,  and  sent  them  home 
a  second  time,  I  felt  I  would  thereby  well-nigh  lose  my 
claim  to  their  loyalty.  I  knew  that  the  preachers  were 
right  when  they  urged  that  the  people  would  murmur 
against  them,  and  refuse  to  heed  them  in  time  to  come. 
Their  future  usefulness  was  practically  at  stake. 

I  saw  that  the  hearts  of  these  men  were  burdened, 
even  as  mine  was  burdened,  though  in  a  different  way. 
I  said  we  would  ask  our  Master,  Jesus,  to  show  us  what 
to  do.  We  prayed  together  as  we  had  done  many  a 
time  before.  We  had  often  found  that  when  we  had 
something  difficult  to  face,  and  we  asked  him  to  help 
us,  the  load  somehow  was  lifted  from  us.  As  we  now 
prayed,  one  after  another,  for  wisdom  and  strength, 
our  courage  grew.  The  hum  of  many  voices  was  in 
our  ears.  The  people  outside  were  wondering  when 


NINE  THOUSAND  IN   SIX    WEEKS  28 1 

we  would  come  out  and  tell  them  what  we  intended 
to  do.  They  were  patiently  waiting.  I  began  to  feel 
that  I  must  receive  them  into  the  Church  of  Christ,  even 
though  they  numbered  thousands.  I  told  the  preachers 
we  must  baptize  these  converts,  lest  we  do  wrong  in  the 
sight  of  God.  They  told  me  that  they  believed  this  was 
true.  We  were  ready  for  action.  Our  doubts  were 
gone. 

We  now  rapidly  made  plans.  We  were  dealing  with 
a  multitude,  and  must  be  careful  lest  we  find  ourselves 
overwhelmed  by  numbers.  Nearly  3,000  people  were 
already  waiting.  More  were  coming.  There  had  been 
harvests,  and  the  people  had  brought  provisions  with 
them,  tied  in  a  cloth,  enough  to  last  them  on  the  way, 
and  for  a  day  or  two  while  waiting.  If  we  kept  them 
long,  they  would  grow  hungry.  I  had  not  money  with 
me  to  give  them  each  something  as  way  allowance. 
Even  if  I  had  had  the  money,  the  little  bazaar  at  Vel- 
lumpilly  would  not  have  been  equal  to  furnishing  sup- 
plies for  so  many.  We  had  to  act  without  delay. 

I  went  out  and  stood  on  that  wall  again,  facing  the 
people.  I  told  them  that  their  request  would  be  granted. 
I  asked  them  to  go  into  the  grove  of  tamarind  trees, 
near  the  bungalow,  and  to  form  groups  there,  with  their 
preachers.  This  grove  of  shady,  old  trees  became  the 
place  for  an  inquiry  meeting  on  a  large  scale  during 
the  following  three  days.  I  pointed  out  to  each  preacher 
a  tree,  or  several  trees,  under  which  to  gather  the  people 
from  the  villages  which  were  his  special  charge.  The 
teachers  and  Christian  village  elders  were  to  give  assist- 
ance. Each  preacher  was  to  make  a  careful  list  of  those 
known  to  him  or  his  helpers  as  persons  who  had  given 
evidence  of  having  begun  the  Christian  life.  There  were 
many  about  whom  there  was  no  doubt.  The  preachers 
wrote  down  their  names  without  hesitation.  They  had 


282  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY  IN   THE  ORIENT 

labored  for  the  conversion  of  these  men  and  women 
for  years  and  were  glad  they  had  now  come.  There 
were  others  about  whom  there  was  some  inquiry. 

My  knowledge  of  the  social  organization  of  the 
Madigas  now  helped  me.  In  that  tamarind  grove  each 
group  naturally  was  subdivided  into  villages,  and  each 
village  into  families.  The  tribal  spirit,  the  communal 
life,  and  family  cohesion,  all  came  into  play.  There 
were  village  elders  among  the  converts.  They  knew 
that  they  would  lose  none  of  the  authority  which  their 
village  system  had  given  them.  By  their  baptism  they 
practically  became  deacons,  and  the  old  authority  was 
to  be  exercised  under  the  new  regime.  As  I  went  about 
in  that  grove,  helping  the  preachers,  I  reached  conclu- 
sions in  my  own  way.  I  knew  my  field.  I  had  learned 
that  villages  have  characteristics  like  individuals.  When 
the  men  and  women  of  a  village  stood  before  me,  I 
could  tell  in  a  general  way  what  might  be  expected  from 
them,  seconded  by  the  preacher  or  teacher  or  Bible 
woman  who  had  instructed  them.  I  knew  families,  too. 
There  were  families  whose  members  by  a  foregone 
conclusion  could  be  trusted  in  their  religious  profession, 
as  in  other  matters.  There  were  other  families  whose 
members  had  to  be  helped  in  their  good  intentions. 

By  long  practice  I  had  acquired  a  faculty  of  reading 
these  Madiga  faces.  I  was  forced  to  do  this,  lest  I 
be  deceived  too  often.  The  people  said  sometimes,  "It 
is  of  no  use  to  tell  lies  to  our  Clough  Dhora;  he  can 
look  through  our  eyes,  and  take  the  untruths  out  of 
our  heads  and  show  them  to  us."  Often  when  the 
preachers  had  done  their  work  with  a  group  of  con- 
verts, and  had  placed  them  in  line  for  me  to  see,  I 
walked  along  the  line  several  times,  and  then  began  to 
pick  out  one  here,  and  one  there,  asking  them  to  stand 
on  one  side.  After  talking  with  them,  I  generally  advised 


NINE    THOUSAND   IN    SIX    WEEKS  283 

them  to  wait,  and  learn  more.  Then  the  preachers  smiled 
and  said  that  they,  too,  had  had  doubts,  but  lacking  suf- 
ficient reason  for  rejecting  these  candidates,  had  allowed 
them  to  stand  in  line.  We  used  our  habits  of  dis- 
crimination. What  we  had  done  all  along,  we  did 
now,  only  on  a  larger  scale. 

The  preachers  had  simple  bin  conclusive  signs  by 
which  they  knew  whether  a  man  was  converted.  They 
said :  "When  men  stopped  drinking  intoxicating  sarai, 
and  fighting,  and  eating  carrion,  and  working  on  Sun- 
days, and  bowing  to  idols,  we  knew  that  there  was  a 
change.  They  came  then  and  sat  with  the  Christians, 
when  they  sang  hymns  and  prayed,  and  were  willing  to 
listen  when  we  told  them  about  our  Lord  Jesus."  With 
a  few  questions  now,  in  that  grove,  the  preachers  could 
ascertain  the  definiteness  with  which  the  step  was  taken, 
whether  the  essential  truths  of  the  Christian  religion 
had  been  comprehended  and  the  life  of  Jesus  had  become 
a  reality.  They  asked  the  converts  whether  they  were 
ready  to  prove  their  faith  in  the  Christ  by  facing  the 
hardships  which  might  arise.  It  would  have  been  dif- 
ficult to  find  a  more  ignorant,  downtrodden  multitude 
of  people  on  the  face  of  the  earth  than  these  were. 
Yet  we  somehow  could  tell  whether  they  had  taken  a 
firm  hold  upon  the  life  which  is  in  Jesus  Christ. 

There  were  many  whom  we  had  to  refuse.  They 
had  come  because  the  rest  came.  Thousands  went  away, 
rejected.  We  did  it  in  all  kindness.  Most  of  them  were 
received  a  year  or  two  later.  Some  were  permanently 
weaned  from  us.  When  the  preachers  afterwards  came 
to  their  villages,  they  would  not  give  them  a  welcome. 
They  said,  "We  came  to  Vellumpilly  to  be  baptized  and 
were  set  aside.  Now  go  to  those  whom  you  then  re- 
ceived." This  was  the  hard  part  of  it.  The  preachers 
often  said  afterwards  that  they  had  little  trouble  to  keep 


284  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN   THE  ORIENT 

those  who  were  baptized  from  straying.  The  trouble 
came  through  those  whom  we  refused.  Yet  we  knew 
of  no  other  way  to  do. 

The  tamarind  grove  was  close  to  the  Gundlacumma 
River,  one  of  the  largest  rivers  of  that  region,  which 
was  forded  at  ordinary  times,  and  crossed  on  rafts  in 
the  rainy  season.  The  river  bed  was  about  an  eighth 
of  a  mile  across.  The  military  high  road  from  Ongole 
to  Hyderabad  led  down  a  steep  incline  to  the  river  at 
right  angles.  Just  above  the  place  where  the  road  en- 
tered the  river,  the  traveler's  bungalow  had  been  located, 
and  the  grove  of  trees  had  been  planted.  At  this  time, 
owing  to  the  recent  rains,  the  river  was  full,  but  not 
overflowing  its  banks.  At  the  juncture  of  road  and 
river  we  found  the  right  depth  of  water  for  our  purpose. 
Nothing  could  have  met  our  needs  better  than  the  nat- 
ural facilities  here  offered,  with  the  shady  grove,  and 
the  river  with  an  ample  river  bank. 

We  began  baptizing  in  the  afternoon  of  that  first  day, 
July  2,  1878.  The  total  of  that  day  was  614.  The 
people  of  the  Darsi  taluk  had  been  the  first.  We  gath- 
ered them  together  toward  evening  and  I  talked  with 
them.  I  told  them  to  serve  the  Lord  Jesus  faithfully. 
With  happy  faces  they  promised  to  stand  firmly  in  their 
new  life.  I  prayed  with  them  and  committed  them 
to  our  Master  and  his  care,  and  sent  them  on  their  way. 
Thus  I  did  with  one  company  after  another.  I  encour- 
aged those  who  were  going  home  disappointed.  I  told 
them  what  to  do,  and  how  to  increase  their  knowledge 
and  faith.  I  assured  them  that  we  wanted  them  to  grow 
in  Christian  life  and  then  to  unite  with  us.  When  night 
fell  the  first  day,  large  numbers  were  on  their  way  home, 
but  equal  numbers  were  on  the  way,  coming. 

Early  the  next  morning  Thaluri  Daniel  came  with 
Podili  people.  The  Kanigiri  preachers  had  arrived  with 


NINE  THOUSAND   IN    SIX    WEEKS  285 

a  large  contingent.  Anumiah  came  with  people  from 
the  Cumbum  and  Markapur  taluks.  Bezwada  Paul  was 
there  with  a  large  number.  They  all  told  me  that  the 
people,  wholly  oblivious  to  their  protests,  had  contentedly 
walked  several  nights  in  succession,  resting  during  the 
heat  of  the  day,  where  they  could  find  shade.  There 
was  the  sound  of  many  voices  around  that  bungalow. 
The  grove  was  swarming  with  people.  My  diary,  giv- 
ing only  short  entries  of  facts,  said  there  must  have 
been  5,000  people  present  that  morning.  As  the  Hindus 
calculate  crowds,  there  were  "five  acres  of  people." 

The  preachers  and  I  now  worked  as  one  man.  There 
was  complete  understanding  between  them  and  me.  We 
were  accustomed  to  dealing  with  large  numbers,  but  this 
was  more  than  we  had  ever  seen.  We  held  firmly  to- 
gether. The  people  saw  that  we  knew  what  we  were 
doing,  and  when  we  gave  an  order,  they  obeyed  us. 
Baptismal  scenes  on  the  banks  of  rivers  were  not  new 
to  us.  Ten  years  before  I  talked  of  dedicating  the 
rivers  of  that  region  by  baptizing  converts  into  them,  in 
the  name  of  Jesus.  The  only  difference  now  lay  in 
the  numbers.  But  we  had  known  for  some  time  that 
something  of  this  kind  was  bound  to  come.  We  now 
held  to  our  course. 

On  the  second  day,  Wednesday,  July  3,  1878,  we 
began  early.  When  the  sun  rose,  a  large  group  was  by 
the  river  bank.  A  still  larger  group  was  in  the  grove. 
The  old  preachers  of  the  mission  were  in  full  force  in 
both  places.  Periah  was  there.  All  the  men,  who  long 
before  had  sat  at  the  feet  of  Raja  Yoga  teachers  and  then 
had  led  their  people  into  the  heritage  of  a  new  religion, 
were  there.  Humbly  and  conscientiously  they  per- 
formed the  strenuous  task  of  that  day.  Their  labors 
had  brought  back  the  days  of  early  Christianity.  The 


286  SOCIAL    CHRISTIANITY    IN    THE   ORIENT 

Lord  Jesus  could  not  have  been  far  away.  His  name 
was  spoken  that  day  thousands  of  times. 

At  half  past  four,  just  at  sunrise,  we  began  to  bap- 
tize. We  had  a  great  day's  work  before  us.  With  a 
short  intermission  at  noon,  we  continued  the  baptism  till 
sunset.  Each  preacher  had  the  list  of  those  who  were 
baptized  from  his  field.  When  in  the  evening  we  put 
the  lists  together,  we  found  that  we  had  baptized  that 
day  2,222. 

We  had  not  finished.  There  were  still  many  left.  We 
began  the  third  day  soon  after  sunrise,  and  continued 
till  ten  o'clock — just  five  hours.  The  number  was  700. 
The  three  days  brought  us  the  total  of  3,536. 

I  did  not  baptize  anyone  myself  during  those  days. 
Some  one  with  authority  had  to  be  there  to  direct,  and 
to  see  that  order  prevailed.  I  stood  on  a  bank,  ten  feet 
high,  overlooking  the  baptismal  scene,  and  at  the  same 
time  close  to  the  grove.  To  those  near  by  I  could  call 
from  where  I  stood;  to  those  at  a  little  distance  I  sent 
messengers,  telling  them  what  to  do.  I  was  in  touch 
with  everyone  and  knew  what  was  going  on  every- 
where. Often  I  left  my  place  on  the  bank  and  went 
about  in  the  grove,  helping  the  preachers.  We  had 
to  hold  out  against  the  pressure  of  those  whom  we 
had  to  refuse.  It  saved  the  preachers  from  the  ill-will 
of  disappointed  ones,  if  I  came  and  spoke  a  decisive 
word.  Then  I  went  back  to  the  bank.  I  knew  I  was 
witnessing  a  great  event.  I  had  the  feelings  of  a  man 
who  is  doing  his  duty,  no  matter  what  the  consequences 
may  be.  I  submitted  to  the  hand  of  God. 

Our  six  ordained  men  were  there.  They  took  turns, 
two  officiating  at  a  time.  The  names  of  the  candi- 
dates were  read.  Without  delay  and  without  confusion 
one  followed  another.  As  one  preacher  pronounced  the 


NINE   THOUSAND  IN   SIX    WEEKS  287 

formula :  "I  baptize  thee  in  the  name  of  the  Father, 
the  Son,  and  the  Holy  Ghost,"  the  other  preacher  had  a 
candidate  before  him,  and  was  ready  again  to  speak 
those  words  and  to  baptize  him  likewise. 

Whenever  the  people  from  a  taluk,  who  were  going 
home  together  in  the  same  direction,  were  ready,  they 
came  to  ask,  in  the  oriental  way,  for  permission  to  go 
home.  From  all  I  took  the  promise  that  they  would  be 
faithful  Christians.  With  them  all  I  prayed,  committing 
them  to  the  Lord  Jesus,  and  asking  him  to  keep  them 
in  his  care  even  unto  death.  With  many  salaams  they 
turned  homeward,  giving  little  thought  to  the  weary 
miles  that  stretched  out  before  them. 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  third  day  I  returned  to 
Ongole.  Our  work  was  not  yet  done.  I  held  a  con- 
ference with  the  preachers.  They  felt  deeply  concerned 
about  the  three  or  four  thousand  more  who  were  out  on 
the  field,  waiting  for  baptism.  They  had  obeyed  my 
request  and  had  stayed  at  home.  It  would  cause  them 
sore  disappointment  when  now  they  heard  that  if  they 
had  come  they  might  have  been  received.  They  would 
grow  disheartened  with  long  waiting.  The  preachers 
urged  me  to  do  something  about  this,  and  without 
delay.  They  felt  they  could  not  go  back  to  their  fields 
and  meet  these  people,  and  try  to  satisfy  them  with 
mere  promises.  They  wanted  something  definite  to  be 
done  in  the  matter.  I  saw  that  they  were  right. 

We  decided  to  fix  on  two  centers  which  the  people 
could  easily  reach,  one  in  the  direction  of  Kanigiri  and 
Podili  and  Darsi ;  the  other  toward  the  north,  where 
the  people  from  the  northern  taluks  could  easily  come. 
If  I  were  to  go  to  both  those  centers,  it  would  con- 
sume a  good  deal  of  time,  calculating  for  delays  by  rain 
and  bad  roads  and  other  possibilities.  I  proposed  to 
the  men  that  I  come  to  the  northern  center,  and  that  I 


288  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY  IN   THE   ORIENT 

ask  Dr.  Williams  to  go  to  the  southern  center.  By  his 
work  in  the  seminary  he  had  come  in  touch  with  many 
of  the  preachers  and  Christians,  especially  from  the 
southern  taluks.  They  agreed  to  this.  They  told  me 
they  would  do  preliminary  work  on  their  fields,  and 
have  everyone  in  readiness.  If  I  sent  them  messengers 
a  day  or  two  before  Dr.  Williams  and  I  expected  to 
reach  those  centers,  they  would  have  the  people  as- 
sembled. They  went  on  their  errand,  and  I  meanwhile 
sent  an  urgent  request  to  Dr.  Williams,  who  was  on  the 
Nilgiri  Hills  at  the  close  of  the  seminary  vacation,  to 
come  without  delay  and  help  us.  He  came,  and,  as  an 
eye-witness,  sent  the  following  account  to  Boston : 

"In  answer  to  the  earnest  pleadings  of  Brother  Clough 
for  help,  I  went  to  Ongole  a  few  days  before  the  seminary 
opened.  I  intended  to  return  very  soon,  but  found  that  the 
demand  for  help  was  so  great  that  duty  was  clear.  Brother 
Clough  and  his  helpers  were  literally  crowded  upon  by  the 
people  who  were  pressing  into  the  kingdom  of  God.  I  saw 
what  few  missionaries  have  seen. 

"More  than  a  thousand  people  from  one  of  the  Ongole 
hamlets  came  into  the  compound,  and  gave  up  their  idols. 
They  showed  how  they  had  worshiped  them  in  former 
times  with  music  and  dancing  around  the  idols,  and  then 
said  that  henceforth  they  would  worship  the  living  God, 
who  had  helped  them  in  time  of  trouble.  They  declared 
that  they  believed  in  Christ,  the  only  Saviour  of  the  world. 
Brother  Clough  accepted  their  idols  as  trophies  of  the 
cross,  and  with  earnest  words  exhorted  them  to  continue 
steadfast  in  the  faith. 

"Sunday  was  a  glorious  day.  The  morning  was  fine ;  and 
the  large  meeting-house  was  filled,  every  foot  of  space, 
while  a  large  number  stood  outside  at  the  doors  and  win- 
dows. Besides  these,  many  heard  the  word  in  other  parts 
of  Ongole  at  the  same  time  from  Rungiah,  Ezra,  and  others. 
I  had  the  privilege  of  preaching  to  the  great  congregation. 


NINE   THOUSAND  IN    SIX    WEEKS  289 

They  heard  the  word  with  great  interest.  In  the  afternoon 
we  saw  about  three  hundred  buried  with  Christ  in  baptism. 
"You  will  remember  that  I  wrote  in  my  last  letter  of 
the  signs  of  the  times.  Great  as  this  ingathering  is,  it  is 
not  beyond  my  anticipations.  When  we  think  how  many 
earnest  men  are  at  work  on  the  field,  who  go  day  after  day 
telling  the  simple  story  of  the  Cross  and  pleading  with  their 
fellow-men  to  turn  unto  God,  and  remember  what  God  has 
promised,  who  could  look  for  less?" 

All  was  in  readiness.  Messengers  were  sent  out,  as 
the  preachers  had  requested.  Dr.  Williams  started  on 
Tuesday,  July  16,  and  had  his  camp  at  Nundamarilla 
in  the  southern  taluks.  I  started  three  days  later  and 
went  to  Comalpaud  in  the  northern  taluks.  We  could 
not  consult  each  other,  nor  was  there  any  need  of  it. 
The  preachers  had  complete  control  of  the  situation. 
Everyone  knew  what  was  required,  and  held  to  it. 
When  I  arrived  in  Ongole,  after  six  days,  I  found  Dr. 
Williams  waiting  for  me.  The  harvest  where  he  had 
been  had  risen  to  1,850,  while  the  total  in  the  northern 
taluks  had  been  1,031.  Most  of  these,  had  we  given 
them  permission,  would  have  come  to  Vellumpilly.  It 
would  have  brought  the  number  there  to  6,000.  But 
it  was  well  that  the  mass  baptism  was  thus  divided 
between  three  centers.  It  increased  the  definiteness  of 
the  events  in  the  minds  of  all  who  partook  in  them,  or 
heard  about  them. 

This  finished  the  ingathering.  In  six  weeks — 39 
days — we  had  baptized  8,691.  During  the  remaining 
five  months  of  the  year  we  baptized  nearly  1,000  more, 
making  a  total  for  1878  of  9,606.  Our  church  member- 
ship at  the  close  of  1878  was  12,804,  living  in  about 
400  villages.  The  number  of  our  adherents  was  very 
large.  The  Madiga  community  was  stirred.  Those 


290  SOCIAL    CHRISTIANITY    IN    THE   ORIENT 

who  were  baptized  were  all  Madigas,  with  the  exception 
of  a  few  who  were  Malas,  or  men  of  subcastes.  It  was 
a  tribal  movement.  The  caste  people  looked  on,  and  saw 
the  submerged  tenth  of  their  social  order  shaken  in  the 
grip  of  a  power  that  tended  toward  something  higher. 
It  was  the  day  of  early  Christianity  over  again,  when 
"the  common  people  heard  him  gladly." 

Almost  before  we  knew  it,  it  was  all  over.  The 
prophecies  of  the  founder  of  the  mission,  forty  years 
before,  had  come  to  pass.  The  "much  people"  of  Dr. 
Jewett  were  there.  The  "multitude  of  the  elect"  of 
which  I  began  to  talk  soon  after  landing  in  India  was 
now  before  my  eyes.  The  "being  too  busy  baptizing" 
to  be  able  to  attend  to  anything  else,  which  was  one 
of  Mr.  Timpany's  visions,  had  happened.  It  all 
evidently  had  to  come.  It  was  in  the  divine  plan. 

We  may  dwell  on  all  the  circumstances  of  the  case: 
the  many  years  of  work  which  had  preceded  this  event, 
and  the  tendency  toward  this  movement  by  reason  of 
tribal  spirit  and  family  cohesion.  We  may  admit  also 
that  motives  of  greed  fostered  by  the  memory  of  Chris- 
tian benevolence  during  the  famine  may  have  lurked 
in  many  a  head.  Yet  though  we  take  this  all  into  con- 
sideration, we  shall  find  that  we  have  given  only  a 
partial  explanation.  Jesus  was  in  it.  He  had  slowly 
led  up  to  this;  he  made  me  willing  to  take  up  the 
load ;  and  he  kept  that  multitude  afterwards  from  going 
astray. 

A  cyclone  came  and  altered  the  course  of  the  Gundla- 
cumma  River  at  Vellumpilly.  The  place  of  the  great 
baptism  was  washed  away ;  the  bank  where  I  stood  fell ; 
the  grove  of  tamarind  trees  was  uprooted.  Most  of  the 
multitude  have  gone  to  be  with  Jesus.  Those  faithful 
preachers,  too,  have  gone.  I  am  still  here,  but  cannot 
remain  long.  Jesus  only  is  left.  He  still  reigns. 


XVII 

CHRISTENDOM    FACING   A    NEW    PENTECOST 

Two  lines  of  action  were  open  to  me  now  regarding 
the  event  which  had  come  to  pass  in  the  Ongole  Mission. 
One  was  to  place  it  prominently  before  the  public  in 
articles  which  I  might  have  written.  The  other  was  to 
send  the  plain,  simple  facts  to  headquarters  in  Boston, 
and  let  the  officers  of  our  society  deal  with  the  publica- 
tion of  them.  I  chose  the  latter  course. 

Under  much  pressure  of  work  I  began  a  letter  to 
Boston.  Brief  in  stating  the  fact  that  we  had  raised 
the  gates  of  the  church  and  were  now  receiving  converts 
almost  daily,  my  letter  carried  an  urgent  appeal  for  help. 
I  told  of  the  way  other  missionary  societies  were  meet- 
ing similar  emergencies.  One  of  these  had  sent  to  India 
ten  new  missionaries.  I  added: 

"Here,  with  an  equal  or  greater  harvest,  I  am  all  alone. 
Send  help  at  once — men  and  money.  Do  not  plead  hard 
times.  God  has  the  money,  and  will  give  it  if  you  call;  else, 
it  seems  to  me,  a  mistake  is  being  made  here  in  calling  so 
many  to  righteousness." 

This  letter  was  left  unfinished  on  my  desk  when  I 
hastened  off  to  Vellumpilly,  determined  to  persuade  the 
multitude  to  turn  back  home.  Three  days  later  I  re- 
turned, and  the  following  morning  I  proceeded,  as  a  first 
duty,  to  close  up  that  letter.  I  gave  all  the  dates  and 

291 


SOCIAL    CHRISTIANITY   IN   THE   ORIENT 

figures  thus  far.  I  said,  "The  Lord  hath  done  great 
things  for  us,  whereof  we  are  glad."  I  closed  with  an 
appeal,  "Send  out  the  best  Baptist  pastor  and  evangelist 
in  all  America  at  once.  Do  not  delay."  It  was  a  dis- 
connected letter,  full  of  repetitions,  holding  itself  to  the 
facts,  bearing  on  the  face  of  it  the  evidence  of  being 
the  document  of  a  man  who  is  bound  to  state  what  has 
happened,  and  is  clamoring  for  adequate  backing. 

When  this  letter  reached  Boston,  Dr.  Warren  heard 
of  it.  He  came  in  from  his  home  in  Newton  Center 
and  went  to  Dr.  Murdock's  office.  Leaning  on  his  cane, 
grown  prematurely  old  through  suffering,  yet  with  the 
keen,  indomitable  eye  of  a  prophet,  he  asked  for  that 
letter.  He  wanted  all  the  details  that  had  thus  far  been 
received.  He  sat  and  read  it  all,  and  pondered.  The 
door  was  then  closed :  those  two  men  knelt  to  pray.  Six 
years  later,  after  I  had  come  home  just  in  time  to  say 
good-bye  to  Dr.  Warren,  with  a  last  grasp  of  the  hand, 
Dr.  Murdock  told  me  of  that  prayer:  "How  he  loved 
you  and  prayed  for  you  .  .  .  that  the  Lord  would  bear 
you  up  under  the  great  pressure,  that  he  would  keep  the 
'babes  in  Christ'  as  he  called  them."  From  this  office, 
where  two  men  knelt  together  and  took  counsel  together, 
the  tidings  of  the  Ongole  ingathering  were  sent  over  the 
Christian  world. 

I  could  count  on  those  two  men.  Dr.  Warren  was 
the  prophet  of  my  day.  Dr.  Murdock  furnished  support 
of  a  different  type.  His  mind  was  of  the  legal  cast. 
With  a  wide  sweep  of  statesmanship,  he  knew  how  to 
grasp  a  situation  and  hold  it  with  a  firm  hand.  He  sus- 
tained me  during  those  critical  years,  and  wrote  to  me 
afterwards,  "In  season  and  out  of  season  I  have  stood  by 
your  work  and  your  methods  of  work."  With  a  mas- 
terly reticence  and  moderation  he  now  became  the  spokes- 
man in  America  of  that  movement  in  the  Far  East. 


CHRISTENDOM    FACING   A    NEW    PENTECOST        2Q3 

The  simple,  bare  facts  of  the  case  were  allowed  to 
make  their  way,  unaided.  My  letter  was  printed  in  full 
in  the  Baptist  Missionary  Magazine  for  September,  1878. 
A  short  editorial  paragraph  called  attention  to  it,  and 
asked,  "Do  the  records  of  modern  missions  contain  any- 
thing like  this?"  There  were  no  head-lines,  nothing  to 
catch  the  eye  of  the  reader.  The  Missionary  Magazine 
in  those  years  was  widely  read.  In  many  churches  it 
was  customary  to  hold  a  missionary  concert  on  the 
first  Sunday  evening  of  the  month.  The  warmth  with 
which  these  concerts  were  held  generally  indicated  the 
measure  of  zeal  expended  on  home  activities.  When 
now  my  letter  was  read  to  the  churches  on  these  mis- 
sionary evenings,  throughout  the  denomination,  "many 
hearts  were  thrilled  with  the  tidings  therein  communi- 
cated." The  weekly  religious  journals  took  it  up,  and 
brought  the  information  to  a  wider  circle  of  readers.  To 
many  the  story  seemed  incredible.  Some  were  bound 
to  find  out  what  it  all  meant.  They  wrote  to  Boston 
and  asked,  "Can  it  be  true?  Is  there  not  some  mistake 
in  the  figures?  Were  there  two  thousand  two  hundred 
and  twenty-two  baptized  in  one  day?"  They  were  as- 
sured that  the  printers  and  proofreaders  were  not  at 
fault. 

A  great  demand  arose  for  additional  information.  Re- 
quests were  sent  to  the  Mission  Rooms  for  further 
detail.  At  missionary  concerts  they  wanted  to  know 
more.  Who  were  these  Telugus?  The  October  number 
of  the  Missionary  Magazine  brought  a  lengthy  editorial. 
The  men  at  headquarters  now  spoke.  They  gave  the 
side  of  the  story  that  concerned  the  churches.  There 
was  an  urgent  call  now,  ringing  through  the  denomina- 
tion. It  was  not  the  cry  of  some  destitute,  sinking  en- 
terprise :  it  was  the  call  of  success.  The  Executive  Com- 
mittee refused  to  be  held  responsible  if  there  was  delay 


294  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN   THE  ORIENT 

in  the  response.  The  churches  must  rise  and  do  their 
duty.  Men  began  to  feel  as  if  they  had  the  uttermost 
parts  of  the  earth  at  their  door  in  this  loud  demand 
from  a  Pariah  tribe  for  a  place  in  the  coming  of  Christ's 
kingdom.  Another  long  letter  from  me  was  published 
during  October.  I  wrote: 

"Thousands  more.  I  cannot  write  in  detail.  God  was 
with  us,  and  glorified  himself.  A  multitude  were  baptized 
— 3,262  in  all.  These  make,  with  those  already  reported, 
8,691  baptized  from  June  16  to  July  31,  inclusive.  To  God 
be  all  the  praise  now  and  through  all  eternity! 

"Our  school  at  Ongole  is  now  full  of  men  of  all  ages  up 
to  forty  years  or  more,  who  are  trying  to  learn  to  read, 
that  they  may  go  to  their  villages  and  teach  their  neighbors 
and  children  to  read  'God's  letters  to  men.'  I  need,  to  meet 
the  demand  made  upon  me,  two  hundred  teachers  to-day. 
.  .  .  Many  could  find  most  of  their  support  among  the  peo- 
ple. So  anxious  are  they  to  learn  to  read  that,  though  the 
converts  have  no  more  than  half  enough  to  eat,  yet  the 
teachers  would  not  go  hungry." 

The  leaders  at  the  Mission  Rooms,  in  touch  with  the 
life  of  the  churches,  found  that  with  many  the  attitude 
toward  foreign  missions  was  undergoing  a  change. 
Calm,  critical  interest  was  being  transformed  into  real 
enthusiasm.  "Tell  us  more  about  your  Telugu  Mission," 
was  the  request  from  every  side.  Pastors  and  intelligent 
members  of  churches  were  "beginning  for  the  first  time 
to  study  with  care  and  zeal  the  subject  of  foreign  mis- 
sions." They  frankly  confessed  their  lack  of  definite 
missionary  information.  Those  foreign  countries  were 
so  far  away,  and  they  had  been  so  occupied  with  their 
affairs  at  home — they  felt  ashamed  to  find  that  they 
knew  nothing  about  those  who  lived  on  the  other  side 


CHRISTENDOM    FACING   A    NEW    PENTECOST         295 

of  the  earth.  Other  denominations  began  to  take  note. 
A  prominent  Presbyterian  clergyman  wrote,  "We  con- 
fess ourselves  amazed  that  the  whole  Baptist  Church 
in  America  is  not  so  moved  and  thrilled  with  a  holy 
enthusiasm  as  to  more  than  double  its  prayers  and  gifts 
and  efforts  in  a  single  year." 

My  appeal  for  a  helper  brought  response.  Two  lay- 
men sent  their  checks  to  the  Mission  Rooms  to  provide 
outfit,  passage  and  support  for  one  year  of  a  missionary 
family.  The  man,  too,  was  found.  Dr.  W.  B.  Boggs, 
with  Mrs.  Boggs,  both  from  Canada,  were  on  the  way 
to  India  before  the  close  of  the  year.  They  were  familiar 
with  the  Telugu  language,  and  were  thus  equipped  to 
render  valuable  service  as  soon  as  they  reached  the  field. 
They  were  a  strong  reenforcement.  But  what  was  one 
man,  when  ten  men  ought  to  have  been  sent — sent  with- 
out delay? 

Next  the  Baptist  Sunday  schools  were  heard  from. 
They  were  coming  to  the  front,  it  seems,  for  the  first 
time  in  denominational  history.  Those  baptisms  out  in 
the  Telugu  Mission  were  facts  that  children  could  lay 
hold  of ;  they  were  willing  to  bring  their  offerings  for 
something  which  they  could  understand.  One  Sunday 
school  after  another  sent  something  toward  the  project 
of  sending  forward  another  man,  close  on  the  steps  of 
the  one  already  on  the  way.  It  was  missionary  training 
for  the  rising  generation. 

I  knew  nothing  of  this  enthusiasm.  Week  after  week 
passed  by.  I  wondered  many  a  time  what  was  going 
to  become  of  the  situation.  My  Master,  Jesus,  must 
have  upheld  me  and  given  me  the  assurance  that  I  did 
right  in  baptizing  that  multitude.  Yet  my  anxiety  found 
expression  in  the  following  letter  to  headquarters,  dated 
September  17,  1878: 


296  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN   THE  ORIENT 

"I  rejoice  with  trembling,  not  because  I  doubt  the  good- 
ness of  God  and  his  promises,  but  are  the  American  Bap- 
tists going  to  stand  by  me?  Or  are  they  going  to  hear  of 
the  great  revival  among  the  Telugus,  rejoice  for  a  day,  then 
forget  us  nearly,  and  leave  the  great  multitude  just  out  of 
heathenism  upon  me?  I  think  of  this  forget  fulness  of 
Americans,  said  to  be  a  national  characteristic,  and  at  times 
feel  oppressed.  When  at  home  in  1872-3  I  often  said,  'The 
Telugus  are  going  to  come  to  Jesus  just  as  fast  as  the 
Telugu  missionaries  and  the  American  Baptists  are  ready 
and  prepared  to  teach  the  converts  the  "all  things  whatso- 
ever I  have  commanded  you."  '  But,  brethren,  this  is  a  task 
which  but  few,  either  in  India  or  America,  can  fully  under- 
stand. When  a  convert  is  baptized,  the  hard  work  is  only 
begun;  for  there  must  be  precept  upon  precept,  line  upon 
line,  here  a  little  and  there  a  little — or  rather  I  should  say, 
here  a  good  deal  and  there  a  good  deal. 

"The  total  number  baptized  up  to  date,  since  June  15, 
is  9,147.  Is  this  too  large  a  blessing?  Is  it  not  what  you 
have  been  praying  for?  Are  the  converts  unacceptable, 
because  so  many?  Are  we  not  after  all  the  Telugus? 
We — my  native  preachers  and  myself — believe  in  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ,  and  in  preaching  the  Gospel.  We  baptize 
those  only  whom  we  have  reason  to  believe  He  has  regener- 
ated. How  can  we  do  otherwise  ? 

"Englishmen  in  India  and  England  begin  to  look  upon 
the  Telugu  Mission  with  much  interest.  They  know  that 
the  American  Baptists,  professedly,  provide  all  the  funds 
needed  for  ordinary  mission  work;  hence,  until  they  know 
that  you  either  cannot  or  will  not  do  all  that  is  necessary, 
I  cannot  ask  them  to  aid  in  ordinary  cases  with  money. 
They  would  think  that  they  were  robbing  you  of  a  precious 
privilege.  .  .  ." 

Help  was  coming.  A  few  days  after  I  had  sent  off 
this  letter,  a  cable  message  came  from  Dr.  Murdock, 
dated  September  25,  1878,  containing  five  words: 
"Rupees  eleven  thousand  for  work."  My  diary  says: 


CHRISTENDOM    FACING   A    NEW    PENTECOST         297 

"What  glorious  news!  The  Lord  is  again  better  than 
all  our  fears  and  weak  faith."  I  could  now  proceed  to 
draw  into  line  every  man  and  woman  whose  services 
were  valuable  to  teach  the  multitude  the  "all  things 
needful."  I  subsidized  these  workers ;  the  people  did 
the  rest.  In  scores  of  Christian  villages  the  people  had 
begged  me  to  help  them  build  a  school  house.  They 
said  if  I  would  pay  for  the  beam  and  rafters,  they  would 
erect  the  mud-walls  and  furnish  the  thatch.  This  could 
now  be  taken  in  hand.  We  rilled  our  station  school  with 
prospective  workers.  Our  most  urgent  needs  were  met. 
I  saw  that  I  was  not  going  to  lack  support  and  there- 
fore took  courage. 

The  Executive  Committee  of  our  Foreign  Mission  So- 
ciety formed  a  stronghold  to  me.  They  were  nine  men,  all 
prominent  in  their  walks  in  life.  Their  point  of  view 
varied;  some  were  eminent  in  the  religious  life  of  the 
denomination;  others  had  business  capacity;  they  all, 
somehow,  believed  in  the  movement  at  Ongole.  Month 
after  month  they  sat  in  council  together  and  saw  money 
poured  out  from  the  treasury  upon  mission  fields  that 
were  stony  and  hard.  When  now  the  cry  of  much  har- 
vest rang  in  their  ears,  they  praised  God.  There  might 
be  risk  in  the  numbers  and  in  the  ignorance  of  the  con- 
verts :  they  were  willing  to  take  the  risk.  They  bore 
with  me  when  now  I  was  continually  clamoring  for  sup- 
port, and  patiently  explained  to  the  churches  what  was 
needed.  They  never  knew  what  unusual  situation  I 
might  spring  upon  them,  demanding  a  careful  inquiry 
into  oriental  conditions  far  removed  from  their  daily 
routine — yet  they  were  unwavering  in  their  loyalty. 
Treading  men  in  the  denomination  sometimes  expressed 
apprehension  concerning  the  rapid  expansion  of  the 
Telugu  Mission.  Some  asked  whether,  under  the  un- 
usual circumstances  of  our  growth,  the  tenets  of  our  de- 


298  SOCIAL    CHRISTIANITY    IN    THE   ORIENT 

nomination  were  safeguarded.  The  men  of  the  Execu- 
tive Committee  never  showed  anxiety.  They  had  seen 
the  hand  of  God  moving  in  the  Telugu  Mission  and 
were  unafraid. 

From  many  directions  earnest  requests  had  been  sent 
to  the  Mission  Rooms  to  set  apart  a  day  for  a  special 
thanksgiving  service,  to  be  observed  by  all  the  churches. 
The  Executive  Committee,  in  a  document  signed  by  each 
member,  called  upon  the  churches  to  praise  God  in  their 
sanctuaries  on  a  day  appointed  by  them — the  first  Sun- 
day in  December,  1878.  Printed  matter  was  sent  out 
to  every  pastor,  and  to  every  Sunday  school  superin- 
tendent throughout  the  Baptist  churches  in  the  land,  set- 
ting forth  the  leading  facts  in  the  history  of  the  Telugu 
Mission.  Thank  offerings  were  to  be  brought.  It  was 
a  call  for  concerted  action,  the  effect  of  which  was  felt 
for  many  a  day.  A  few  years  later  it  was  stated  that 
the  highest  point  which  had  as  yet  been  attained  by 
the  donations  to  the  mission  treasury  was  reached  under 
the  spur  of  the  interest  aroused  by  the  wonderful  tidings 
from  the  Ongole  field. 

A  thrill  of  joy  and  gratitude  went  through  the 
churches  from  East  to  West.  Never  before  had  the 
Baptists  been  so  generally  and  deeply  moved  by  tidings 
from  their  foreign  mission  fields;  nor  has  there  been  a 
similar  occasion  since  that  time.  The  name  of  Jesus 
was  praised  in  hundreds  of  churches  on  that  Sunday, 
as  large  congregations  sang  their  best-known  missionary 
hymns,  and  heard  of  the  spread  of  Christ's  kingdom 
beyond  the  seas.  Along  the  line  of  our  three  miles  of 
canal  the  name  of  Jesus  had  been  spoken  all  day  long, 
while  men  were  digging;  it  was  spoken  thousands  of 
times  during  the  days  of  the  ingathering  at  Vellumpilly ; 
it  was  repeated  ten  thousand  times  now,  throughout  the 
length  and  breadth  of  the  United  States,  by  the  men 


CHRISTENDOM    FACING  A    NEW    PENTECOST         299 

and  women  and  children  of  the  Baptist  churches.  Orient 
and  Occident  were  brought  together.  A  long  stride  was 
made  that  day  toward  the  larger  sense  of  brotherhood, 
which  binds  together  men  of  different  races. 

Amid  all  the  rejoicing,  there  were  some  in  the 
churches  who  were  "amazed  and  in  doubt,  saying  one 
to  another,  What  meaneth  this?"  They  inquired  with 
deep  interest  whether  these  thousands  who  had  come  out 
of  heathenism  had  all  experienced  a  genuine  conversion. 
Revivals  on  a  large  scale  sometimes  swept  over  our 
Christian  communities  in  America  and  England  dur- 
ing those  years.  The  religious  life  of  cities  and 
towns  was  shaken  when  some  prominent  evangelist 
joined  forces  with  the  pastors  of  a  vicinity.  There  were 
accessions  to  the  churches.  Sometimes  there  was  much 
falling  away  afterwards.  Those  who  had  gained  an  in- 
sight into  the  nature  of  revivals  wanted  to  know  wherein 
the  Telugu  revival  differed  from  those  in  Christian  lands. 
The  reply  from  the  Mission  Rooms  was  that  if  those 
multitudes  were  merely  renouncing  their  idolatrous  wor- 
ship, and  were  flocking  to  hear  what  the  teachers  of 
Christianity  had  to  offer  as  a  substitute,  it  would  be  a 
remarkable  fact ;  but  that  it  seemed  to  be  much  more 
than  a  turning  away  from  idols.  Men  were  feeling  after 
information  that  would  give  them  the  social  background 
for  that  movement.  They  thought  that  in  some  form 
natural  causes  must  have  been  at  work,  otherwise  the 
event  would  have  to  be  regarded  as  simply  a  miracle. 
I  never  attempted  to  explain  that  there  had  been  a  social 
uprising  as  the  result  of  the  coming  of  Christianity.  I 
was  so  much  a  part  of  that  mass  movement  that  I  found 
it  difficult  to  point  out  to  others  the  social  causes  back  of 
it.  We  practiced  the  substance  of  what  later  came  to  be 
called  Social  Christianity. 

The  "Lone  Star"  tract  was  in  great  demand.    It  had 


300  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN   THE   ORIENT 

been  written  at  an  opportune  time.    Five  J™ 

Dr.  Jewett  was  in  America,  on  furlough.     He  .  accom 

oanied  Dr  W.  S.  McKenzie,  district  secretary  of  our  For 


day     In  the  little  farmhouse  bedroom  they  sat  and  talked 

far  into  the  night.    All  the  traditions  of  the  Telugu  M,s- 

on  with  which  Dr.  Jewett  stirred  my  soul  on  the  saihng 


pocketbook,  and  from  it  took  a  scrap  of  paper,  some- 
what soiled  Handling  it  as  if  it  were  something  sacred, 
he  passed  it  over  to  his  listener  with  the  question,  Have 
Sou  ever  seen  that  poem?"  It  was  the  famous  "I^ne 
Star"  poem.  No  one  for  many  a  year  had  seen  it. 
id  that  Dr.  Smith,  when  he  was  shown  the  scrap  of 


effect   by  vast  congregations, 
arts  set  forth  by  this  tract  seemed  to  ^^ 

XT  _  £   Vi /-\1  ft  1  tn or   f^Yl    l)V    1 3,1  Lrl    dl AvA 

j        A  K,r  tVif»  loner  vearS  OI  nOlQing  uii  L»^    i«1>- 

;"!;:rde  WhL  mennrgefyerred  to  the  work  of  the  Holy 


CHRISTENDOM    FACING   A    NEW    PENTECOST         30 1 

Spirit  in  modern  missions  they  pointed  to  this  as  an  ex- 
ample. To  many,  at  that  time,  religion  was  a  thing 
apart.  That  there  should  be  fellowship  between  religion 
and  social  betterment  was  a  proposition  which  had  yet 
to  be  clearly  enunciated.  We  men  on  the  foreign  field 
made  our  contribution  toward  bringing  the  possibility 
of  union  between  the  two  into  clear  outline.  The  fact 
that  our  famine  camp  preceded  the  ingathering  was  to 
many  the  first  lesson  of  the  kind.  They  began  by  doubt- 
ing such  mingling  of  the  spiritual  and  the  temporal. 
They  ended  by  saying :  Why  not  ? 

The  story  of  the  Pentecostal  baptism  at  Ongole  found 
its  way  into  religious  publications  the  world  over.  To 
the  Baptists  it  was  a  denominational  experience  in 
which  other  religious  organizations  shared.  Men  of  va- 
rious creeds  saw  that  it  threw  light  upon  an  important 
occurrence  in  the  early  Church.  Thus  far  it  had  been 
taken  for  granted  by  many  that  the  baptism  of  the  3,000 
at  Pentecost  could  not  have  been  by  immersion,  be- 
cause it  seemed  a  practical  impossibility.  This  objec- 
tion was  now  removed.  It  had  been  done  on  the  foreign 
mission  field,  in  a  way  that  was  upheld  by  the  denomina- 
tion at  home.  Modern  missions  had  furnished  an  illus- 
tration for  the  history  of  early  Christianity. 

Men  of  large  affairs  and  business  capacity  took  note 
of  the  Telugu  revival.  They  saw  the  spiritual  meaning 
of  it  and  were  stirred.  Naturally  they  were  affected 
by  the  concrete  results.  The  missionary  motive  de- 
manded an  outlay  of  money.  It  seemed  to  them  that  the 
Telugu  Mission  justified  investment.  My  requests 
sounded  like  a  business  proposition  with  a  missionary  ap- 
peal attached.  They  could  not  refuse  me.  Sometimes, 
when  in  America  on  furlough  I  went  to  rich  business  men 
who  were  known  to  be  unwilling  to  give  for  missions, 
and  told  them  how  many  thousand  dollars  I  expected 


3O2  SOCIAL    CHRISTIANITY   IN    THE   ORIENT 

them  to  give  for  the  Telugu  Mission.  They  said  I  had 
come  to  the  wrong  person.  Before  I  left  their  office  they 
had  mentally  parted  with  their  money,  and  their  check 
followed  later.  It  was  our  spiritual  success  that  con- 
quered men  who  had  achieved  success  in  commercial  life. 
Six  months  after  the  ingathering,  a  discriminating  eye- 
witness came  to  Ongole,  Hon.  Robert  O.  Fuller,  a  prom- 
inent Boston  business  man,  a  member  of  pur  Executive 
Committee  for  years,  and  a  man  whose  judgment  car- 
ried weight.  After  his  return,  in  answer  to  many  ques- 
tions, at  an  important  meeting  in  Philadelphia,  he  said : 

"As  a  stockholder  in  the  missionary  enterprise  I  wanted 
to  know  if  the  dividends  were  honestly  earned  and  declared. 
Accordingly,  in  the  course  of  my  recent  journey  around  the 
world,  I  visited,  as  far  as  possible,  our  missions  in  Asia  and 
Europe.  I  went  to  the  Telugu  Mission,  traveling  2,000 
miles  out  of  my  way  and  spending  three  weeks  to  do  so.  I 
found  Mr.  Clough  in  the  northern  part  of  it.  I  stayed  there 
five  days,  and  studied  him  closely.  During  the  famine,  such 
was  the  confidence  felt  in  him  that  the  government  made  a 
grant  of  several  hundred  thousand  rupees,  putting  it  all  in 
his  hands,  asking  no  bond  or  security.  He  executed  public 
works,  and  saved  the  people  from  starving. 

"I  spent  a  Sunday  with  Mr.  Clough.  The  chapel  was 
crowded  with  people,  sitting  on  the  floor.  I  heard  him  ex- 
amine candidates.  About  three-fourths  of  those  who  applied 
were  received.  After  the  baptism  I  saw  many  of  the  peo- 
ple following  Mr.  Clough,  and  pleading  with  him  for  some- 
thing. I  inquired  what  they  were  asking  for,  and  found 
that  they  were  begging  for  teachers,  to  go  to  their  villages, 
so  that  their  children  should  not  fall  away." 

This  testimony  gave  confidence  to  many  leading  men 
in  the  denomination. 

A  hard  task  was  now  before  me.  Mrs.  Clough  and  I 
had  been  slowly  coming  to  the  conclusion  that  it  would 


CHRISTENDOM    FACING   A    NEW    PENTECOST         303 

be  necessary  on  account  of  her  impaired  health,  and  on 
account  of  our  children,  that  she  should  go  to  America 
and  make  a  home  for  them  there.  The  two  older  chil- 
dren, whom  we  had  left  behind  in  America  when  we 
returned  to  India  five  years  before,  had  been  holding 
out  bravely  without  their  parents,  but  they  had  been  on 
our  minds  constantly,  and  we  found  the  separation  hard 
to  bear.  Two  of  the  three  who  were  with  us  in  Ongole 
were  of  an  age  when  India  was  no  longer  the  place  for 
them.  Then  there  was  my  aged  mother,  who  always 
remembered  the  time  when  she  lived  with  us  before  we 
went  to  India.  She,  too,  looked  for  our  coming,  and 
longed  to  find  a  home  with  us.  We  faced  the  situation, 
and  found  that  we  would  have  to  break  up  the  home  in 
Ongole,  leaving  me  there  alone  with  my  servants,  while 
Mrs.  Clough  settled  in  Kalamazoo,  Michigan,  to  make  a 
home  for  our  children  and  my  mother. 

This  question  of  the  separation  of  families  is  one  of 
the  hardest  we  have  to  meet  in  our  missionary  life. 
I  never  forgot  the  look  on  the  faces  of  my  children, 
when  they  were  led  away  and  knew  they  would  not  see 
their  father  again  for  a  long  time.  The  weekly  foreign 
mail  days  in  Ongole  sometimes  satisfied  the  heart,  but 
more  often  accentuated  the  strain  of  separation.  Then 
when  I  saw  my  children  again,  the  years  of  their  de- 
velopment without  their  father  lay  between  us.  They 
had  grown  to  young  manhood  and  young  womanhood, 
and  I  found  myself  under  the  necessity  of  becoming 
acquainted  with  my  own  children. 

It  was  a  sad  day  for  the  Ongole  Mission  when  Mrs. 
Clough  left  the  bungalow  and  the  compound,  with  tears 
she  could  not  control,  while  the  native  people  were  griev- 
ing as  if  they  were  losing  their  mother.  She  had  stood 
at  her  post  for  fifteen  years.  The  people  loved  her  and 
trusted  her.  I  sailed  with  her  and  the  children  and  was 


304  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY  IN   THE  ORIENT 

considering  the  plan  of  making  a  short  stay  in  America. 
After  we  reached  England,  a  letter  came  to  me  from 
Dr.  Murdock,  dated  June  14,  1879,  m  which  he  said: 

"We  would  all  dearly  love  to  see  you  and  it  would 
doubtless  be  useful  if  we  could  have  a  good  talk.  But 
there  are  so  many  people  who  regard  the  work  in  your  dis- 
trict with  a  kind  of  alarm,  they  are  so  full  of  apprehension 
as  to  what  is  to  become  of  the  10,000,  that  a  knowledge  of 
the  fact  that  you  are  not  among  them  would  be  quite  dis- 
turbing, if  not  disheartening.  In  short,  the  Committee  do 
not  think  it  is  expedient  for  you  to  come  among  us  just  at 
this  time,  unless  you  are  able  to  plead  a  personal  necessity. 
I  am  glad  you  have  taken  the  sea-voyage,  and  we  all  hope 
it  will  set  you  up  and  make  you  strong  for  another  good 
pull  among  the  Telugus." 

Acting  upon  this  advice,  I  took  my  family  on  board 
the  steamer  bound  for  America.  Then  I  hastened  back 
to  the  work  which  required  my  presence,  and  to  the 
bungalow  which  I  knew  I  should  have  to  occupy  alone 
for  many  a  year.  I  had  been  absent  from  Ongole  three 
months.  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Boggs  had  successfully  cared 
for  the  interests  of  the  work.  The  staff  of  helpers 
had  been  full  of  zeal.  They  now  came  to  Ongole  for 
a  quarterly  meeting.  Dr.  Boggs  reported  of  this: 

"Five  months  had  passed  since  the  last  meeting,  a  much 
longer  interval  than  usual,  and  the  workers  were  hungry 
for  the  affectionate  counsel  and  hearty  encouragement 
which  awaited  them.  Brother  Clough  had  returned  the  day 
before,  after  a  few  months'  absence.  The  people  expected 
him.  It  was  a  time  of  enthusiastic  joy." 

The  chapel  was  packed  that  Sunday.  The  accounts 
from  the  field  were  good.  With  the  exception  of  a  few 


CHRISTENDOM    FACING   A    NEW    PENTECOST         305 

cases  of  inconsistent  conduct  and  partial  conformity  to 
heathen  customs,  all  the  Christians  were  reported  to  be 
steadfast  in  the  faith.  I  felt  the  warmth  of  their  affection 
for  me.  The  outlook  was  good.  It  upheld  my  faith  and 
courage. 

During  that  summer,  in  June,  1879,  tne  Decennial 
Missionary  Conference  for  South  India  and  Ceylon  had 
met  in  Bangalore.  In  this  important  conference  twenty- 
five  missionary  societies  were  represented,  from  Eng- 
land, Scotland,  America  and  Germany.  It  was  an  in- 
terdenominational body,  of  a  kind  which  in  later  years 
became  possible  in  the  home  land  also.  Men  on  the 
foreign  field  set  the  pace.  In  their  need  for  fellow- 
ship they  drew  together  in  a  common  cause.  Six  days 
were  given  to  the  reading  of  carefully  prepared  papers, 
followed  by  discussions.  Two  good-sized  volumes  con- 
tain the  records. 

A  day  was  given  to  deliberation  concerning  the  recent 
accessions  to  Christian  missions  located  in  the  famine 
area,  extending  over  parts  of  the  Telugu  and  Tamil 
country.  In  five  Protestant  missions  there  had  been 
more  than  50,000  applicants.  The  Roman  Catholic 
Church  of  South  India  had  enrolled  probably  twice  that 
number.  It  was  a  new  feature  in  missionary  enterprise, 
and  all  were  interested  in  it. 

The  mode  of  procedure  concerned  the  men  of  the  Con- 
ference, because  in  an  indirect  way  they  all  were  affected 
by  it.  The  five  missions  which  had  had  accessions 
were  of  different  denominations.  They  varied  in  their 
methods.  Four  of  them  had  pursued  a  similar  course 
so  far  as  the  reception  of  these  converts  was  con- 
cerned. They  had  baptized  into  church  membership 
less  than  one  fourth  of  the  applicants.  The  large  ma- 
jority had  been  received  as  probationers,  who  had  placed 
themselves  under  instruction,  and  had  been  enrolled  as 


306  SOCIAL    CHRISTIANITY    IN    THE   ORIENT 

such.  It  was  a  careful,  cautious  mode  of  procedure 
which  had  the  commendation  of  all.  We  Baptists  stood 
alone  in  the  course  we  had  taken,  letting  baptism  follow 
upon  profession  of  faith.  The  interest  was  therefore 
centered  upon  us.  There  was  demand  for  informa- 
tion. I  was  in  England.  Dr.  Jewett  was  present.  Dr. 
Downie  of  Nellore  read  a  paper  on  the  accessions  in 
our  mission,  and  he  stood  his  ground  in  explaining,  and 
at  the  same  time  defending,  our  course  of  action.  He 
had  not  been  an  eye-witness,  but  had  informed  himself. 
He  explained  the  tenets  of  our  denomination,  and  pointed 
out  that  I  had  adhered  to  them.  This  did  not  con- 
vince the  men  of  the  Conference. 

They  all  had  come  more  or  less  in  contact  with  the 
Pariahs  of  South  India,  and  knew  their  clannish  readi- 
ness to  imitate  and  follow  each  other.  They  had  found 
that  the  native  church,  also,  was  bound  to  be  affected  by 
this  tendency.  To  apply  the  Baptist  individualistic  prin- 
ciple to  Asiatics  of  this  type,  placing  the  responsibility 
upon  the  convert,  seemed  to  them  a  hazardous  under- 
taking. They  felt  the  missionary  ought  to  shoulder 
the  responsibility.  Applying  this  to  my  case,  it  was  a 
foregone  conclusion  that  I  could  not  be  expected  to  be 
informed  definitely  about  the  spiritual  condition  of 
10,000  converts.  It  seemed  to  the  members  of  the  Con- 
ference that  my  course  of  action  not  only  marked  a 
departure  from  the  mode  of  procedure  of  all  other  mis- 
sionary societies  over  the  famine  area,  but  that  it 
amounted  to  a  violation  of  the  principles  of  my  own 
denomination.  The  discussion  was  lengthy.  There 
were  those  who  were  in  favor  of  an  expression  of 
opinion  from  the  Conference,  as  opposed  to  my  course. 
Some  one  was  getting  ready  to  propose  a  vote  of  cen- 
sure. 

A  man  then  rose  and  turned  the  tide.    He  was  a  mem- 


CHRISTENDOM    FACING   A    NEW    PENTECOST         307 

her  of  the  American  Methodist  Episcopal  Society.  For 
years  deeply  engaged  in  revival  work,  both  in  America 
and  in  India,  he  had  an  insight  into  the  hidden  springs 
and  sources  of  great  revivals.  He  knew  that  spiritual 
power  is  necessary  to  rouse  even  one  single  human  being 
out  of  the  apathy  of  everyday  life.  Where  groups  of 
men,  and  especially  where  a  multitude  of  men  woke  up 
enough  to  inquire  for  spiritual  truth — he  saw  a 
miracle.  Large  of  build,  and  large  of  heart,  this  man, 
with  a  great,  resounding  voice,  made  himself  heard  as 
he  said  that  while  he  had  no  personal  acquaintance  with 
the  movement  at  Ongole,  he  yet  believed  that  the  Spirit 
of  God  was  in  it.  He  called  upon  the  Conference  to 
praise  God  for  these  converts.  The  chairman  then  closed 
the  discussion  by  "emphatically  repudiating  the  idea  of 
making  any  inquisitorial  investigation  into  the  recent 
occurrences  in  the  American  Baptist  Mission."  The  aim 
had  been  simply  to  gain  reliable  information.  I  heard 
of  it  all  when  I  returned  to  India.  I  cannot  say  that 
I  did  not  feel  it  keenly.  But  I  continued  in  my  course 
unmoved,  because  I  believed  that  God  had  shown  me  the 
way,  and  that  I  must  walk  in  it. 

The  whole  question  of  dealing  with  masses  of  people 
who  came  out  of  heathenism,  seeking  salvation  in  the 
Christian  religion,  was  at  that  time  regarded  in  the  light 
of  denominational  tenets.  These  movements  were  to  be 
adapted  to  the  inherited  church  polity.  I  had  broken 
away  from  this,  under  the  pressure  of  circumstances. 
When  that  Conference  met  ten  years  later,  the  scene  had 
shifted.  Other  missions,  notably  the  American  Meth- 
odist Episcopal  Mission,  had  come  to  conclusions  similar 
to  mine.  The  leather  workers  in  northern  India,  who 
stood  on  the  same  lowest  rung  of  the  social  ladder  as 
our  Madigas,  were  coming  over  to  Christianity  in  thou- 


308  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN   THE  ORIENT 

sands.  There  was  no  famine  at  that  time,  yet  the  num- 
bers were  greater  than  with  us,  ten  years  before.  Masses 
of  people  were  seeking  salvation. 

Again  Christendom  was  facing  the  question  of  mass 
movements.  More  recognition  was  given  to  the  fact 
that  Asiatic  peoples,  of  tribal  origin,  must  be  ex- 
pected to  come  in  masses  when  once  moved.  An  increas- 
ing number  of  missionaries  saw  that  the  question  should 
be  lifted  beyond  the  range  of  denominationalism.  We 
reverted  to  early  Christianity.  We  adopted  the  mode  of 
procedure  stated  in  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles  by  receiving 
"multitudes  both  of  men  and  women."  We  answered 
the  people  as  Peter  did,  when  he  said :  "Repent  and  be 
baptized  every  one  of  you  in  the  name  of  Jesus  Christ 
for  the  remission  of  sins."  The  majority  of  mission- 
aries were  conservative;  they  held  that  the  only  safe 
course  was  to  receive  the  people  one  by  one,  or  in  small 
groups.  Yet  the  fact  that  we,  at  Ongole,  stood  unmoved 
after  our  large  accessions,  and  had  seen  no  cause  for 
regret,  gave  occasion  to  many  to  come  to  the  conclusion 
that  the  policy  of  immediate  baptism  was  not  without 
testimony  in  its  favor.  Moreover,  the  churches  at  home 
took  note.  They  saw  that  modern  missions  formulated 
a  demand  for  a  universal  church  of  Christ  into  which 
masses  of  people  could  be  received,  unaffected  by  the 
differences  which  divide  Christendom. 

Wholly  above  and  beyond  the  questions  of  method 
and  procedure,  I  sometimes  came  to  feel  the  pulse-beat 
of  spiritual  life  in  the  men  who  formed  the  background 
of  the  missionary  enterprise.  Never  was  this  more 
eminently  the  case  than  when,  in  March,  1881,  Dr.  S. 
F.  Smith  came  to  Ongole.  In  his  beautiful  old  age, 
with  Mrs.  Smith,  he  was  making  the  tour  of  Asiatic 
missions.  Like  a  triumphal  march  it  seemed,  as  they 
proceeded  from  place  to  place,  while  we  all  tried  to 


CHRISTENDOM    FACING  A   NEW   PENTECOST        309 

make  their  journey  easy  for  them  in  an  oriental  way. 
They  were  a  royal  couple. 

They  stayed  with  me  in  Ongole  ten  days.  Dr.  Smith 
went  about  in  the  hamlets  of  Ongole  and  saw  how  the 
people  lived.  Many  of  our  workers  had  come  to  On- 
gole to  see  him.  I  said,  "Here  is  a  man  who  has  grown 
old  in  our  Christian  religion,  a  man  who  is  counted 
among  the  great  men  of  my  country.  Ask  him  whether 
the  religion  of  Jesus  Christ  has  ever  failed  him."  For 
two  hours,  with  an  interpreter  to  help  them,  they  asked 
him  questions.  Christians  and  caste  people  alike  felt 
that  they  had  some  one  before  them  far  above  the 
ordinary.  He  bore  himself  like  a  prophet  of  old,  mov- 
ing about  freely  among  the  people ;  even  the  poorest  had 
access  to  him. 

One  morning  early  we  went  to  the  top  of  Prayer 
Meeting  Hill.  The  sun  had  just  risen.  We  had  a  wide 
outlook.  I  pointed  out  one  Christian  hamlet  after  an- 
other, as  far  as  the  eye  could  see — all  of  them  seen 
only  with  the  eye  of  faith  thirty  years  before.  We  sat 
down  on  boulders  on  the  spot  which  many  years  before 
Dr.  Jewett  had  pointed  out  to  me  as  the  place  where 
that  memorable  meeting  was  held.  We  sang  Dr.  Smith's 
hymn,  "The  Morning  Light  Is  Breaking." 

It  was  a  wonderful  occasion.  Dr.  Smith  made  a 
Mount  of  Transfiguration  of  that  Indian  hilltop.  His 
face  shone  with  an  inner  light.  As  for  his  prayer,  it 
was  indescribable.  My  diary  of  that  day  says: 

"Dr.  Smith  told  me  when  we  came  down  from  the  hill- 
top :  'I  felt  that  I  had  lost  my  independent  existence — that  I 
was  alone  with  God.  I  did  not  recover  from  this  feeling 
until  I  recollected  that  I  was  asked  to  pray  for  future  bless- 
ings, as  well  as  give  praise  to  the  Lord.  This  done  I  fell 
into  thanksgiving  again.'  " 


3IO  SOCIAL    CHRISTIANITY   IN    THE   ORIENT 

Later  he  wrote  in  his  published  account: 

"The  heavens  seemed  to  be  bowed  around  us  to  over- 
shadow us.  The  Spirit  spoke,  not  man.  We  seemed  to  lose 
our  consciousness  of  independent  existence,  and  to  be  moved 
by  a  divine  impulse.  It  was  not  we,  but  God.  It  was  not 
prayer  so  much  as  a  rhapsody  of  praise — a  rare  experience, 
such  as  scarcely  occurs  twice  in  a  human  lifetime." 

The  next  day  was  a  Sunday.  In  our  crowded  chapel 
Dr.  Smith  preached  to  the  people  a  sermon  full  of 
consolation,  on  the  words,  "We  know  that  all  things 
work  together  for  good  to  them  that  love  God."  Preacher 
Ezra  interpreted.  Converts  had  come ;  we  held  an 
inquiry  meeting  that  afternoon.  Dr.  Smith  went  about 
among  the  candidates,  and  asked  them  questions.  In 
an  all-inclusive,  patriarchal  way,  he  adjusted  himself  to 
the  limited  mental  horizon  of  the  poor,  ignorant  be- 
lievers, who  expressed  their  faith  in  Jesus  Christ  often 
by  looks  and  gestures  more  than  by  words.  Then  we 
went  to  the  baptistery  in  our  garden,  under  the  big 
tamarind  tree.  He  baptized  the  ninety-six  who  had  been 
received,  speaking  each  time  the  baptismal  formula  in 
English.  Preacher  Ezra  stood  by  his  side  and  repeated 
it  in  Telugu.  Dr.  Smith  felt  it  a  fulfillment  of  the 
prophecy  contained  in  his  "Lone  Star"  poem.  Later 
he  expressed  this  in  the  closing  stanzas  of  another  poem : 

"These  are  the  plowman's  garnered  wealth, 

Born  of  his  toil  and  pain; 
These  are  the  sower's  faith  and  tears, 

Transformed  to  golden  grain. 
God  watched  the  toilers  at  their  work ; 

And,  when  His  wisdom  willed, 
The  pledge  His  loving  heart  had  made, 

His  loving  hand  fulfilled. 


CHRISTENDOM    FACING   A    NEW    PENTECOST        3!  I 

"Then  hail,  Lone  Star !  of  all  the  wreath, 

Thou  art  the  brightest  gem, 
As  once,  o'er  fair  Judea's  plains, 

The  Star  of  Bethlehem. 
Shine  on !     We  learn  to  pray  and  wait, 

To  toil  and  trust,  through  thee, — 
A  star  of  triumph  on  Christ's  brow, 

And  faith's  high  victory." 

Three  days  later  they  left  us.  I  said  to  him,  "After 
your  visit  here  are  your  expectations  realized,  or  are 
you  disappointed?"  He  replied,  "Ask  the  Queen  of 
Sheba  how  she  felt.  Her  answer  is  mine,  'Half  was 
not  told  me !' '  Again  he  said,  "Last  Saturday  and  Sun- 
day were  the  choicest  days  I  ever  lived."  Then  the 
mother  heart  in  Mrs.  Smith  asserted  itself.  She  re- 
marked to  me  that  she  feared  when  their  son,  an  honored 
missionary  in  Burma,  heard  how  the  doctor  felt,  he 
might  feel  sad.  To  this  he  replied :  "There  is  only  one 
Prayer  Meeting  Hill,  and  only  one  Telugu  Mission." 

Toward  evening,  March  17,  the  palanquins  stood 
ready,  not  far  from  the  bungalow  steps,  and  everywhere 
there  were  groups  of  native  people  who  wanted  to  say 
salaam  to  our  visitors  once  more.  We  still  had  much 
to  say  to  each  other,  and  when  finally  we  came  out  of  the 
house  and  stood  on  the  veranda,  Dr.  Smith  looked 
toward  the  garden.  He  wanted  to  go  to  the  baptistery, 
where  he  had  baptized  the  ninety-six.  We  saw  him  and 
Mrs.  Smith  standing  there  together,  communing  with 
God,  leaving  their  benediction  with  us.  Our  hearts  were 
full.  I  rode  with  them  two  or  three  miles.  The  native 
Christians  stood  and  looked  after  us,  as  we  left  the  com- 
pound, many  with  tears  in  their  eyes.  Some  said  after- 
wards it  had  been  "like  the  coming  of  God."  To  me 
their  stay  had  brought  spiritual  consolation  which  I 
sorely  needed. 


312  SOCIAL    CHRISTIANITY   IN   THE   ORIENT 

As  I  look  back  now,  I  wonder  how  I  lived  through 
it  all.  The  Lord  Jesus  must  have  helped  me  or  I  would 
have  run  away  from  my  task.  The  famine  turned  my 
hair  white  as  it  is  to-day.  Then  came  the  ingathering1. 
It  was  followed  by  the  sense  of  isolation  which  men  are 
bound  to  feel  when  they  have  hewn  a  track  off  the  beaten 
road.  When  it  was  all  over,  the  children,  whether  white 
or  black,  began  to  call  me  tahta — grandfather.  I  was 
an  old  man,  though  only  forty-five  years  old  as  years  are 
counted. 


XVIII 

A    CHURCH    OF    FIFTEEN    THOUSAND    MEMBERS 

BY  reason  of  the  famine  and  ingathering  my  usual 
long  tours  over  the  field  had  not  been  made  for  three 
years.  I  could  go  out  only  a  few  days  at  a  time.  With 
Dr.  Boggs  now  attending  to  the  work  at  headquarters, 
in  Ongole,  during  my  absence,  it  became  possible  for  me 
to  visit  the  Christians  in  their  villages.  In  the  middle  of 
November,  1879,  w'tn  plans  all  made  for  a  long  tour, 
I  started. 

I  was  at  my  first  camping-place,  sixteen  miles  from 
Ongole,  when  something  happened  which  taught  me  in 
an  overwhelming  way  the  instability  of  all  things  human. 
On  the  afternoon  of  November  iQth  it  began  to  rain 
heavily.  Then  it  poured  and  then  it  was  blowing  a  gale.  I 
saw  that  we  were  just  west  of  the  center  of  a  severe 
cyclone.  After  two  hours  the  wind  became  terrific;  the 
rain  came  in  sheets ;  trees  were  being  uprooted  or  broken 
off,  branches  were  taken  up  by  the  wind  and  carried  off 
like  feathers.  My  men  had  been  digging  trenches  around 
the  tent  to  keep  it  from  being  flooded.  Now  the  pegs 
that  held  it,  and  the  trees  to  which  it  was  roped,  were 
giving  way.  The  tent  was  splitting,  and  I  saw  it  would 
soon  be  in  shreds.  We  dragged  the  luggage  outside  and 
cut  the  ropes  and  let  the  tent  down.  The  men  and  I 
somehow  made  our  way  to  the  village,  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  away,  where  we  found  most  of  the  houses  flooded. 


314  SOCIAL    CHRISTIANITY   IN    THE    ORIENT 

The  village  munsiff  allowed  us  to  come  into  his  cow- 
shed, twelve  by  eighteen  feet.  It  was  occupied  by  two 
bullocks  and  a  cow,  two  buffaloes  and  four  goats,  but  we 
were  thankful  for  a  shelter  even  as  good  as  that.  There 
were  three  hours  more  of  violent  storm.  By  sundown 
it  had  reached  its  height;  the  wind  changed  and  the 
cyclone  went  elsewhere,  over  Ongole  and  Ramapatnam 
also,  to  carry  destruction  in  its  track.  My  six  men  and 
I  were  huddled  together  that  night  in  a  place  six  by 
eight  feet  in  that  shed,  flooded  with  water,  all  as  wet 
as  could  be.  The  munsiff  gave  me  his  blanket  and  an 
old  sheet  to  wrap  around  me,  and  an  empty  grain  bag 
to  sit  on.  He  brought  a  bundle  of  corn  stalks  for  us 
to  burn,  and  with  it  we  kept  up  a  fire  all  night,  and 
thus  saved  ourselves  from  chilling  to  death. 

It  was  a  fearful  morning  when  at  last  daylight  came. 
Such  destruction!  The  women  were  crying  all  about. 
We  pulled  the  tent  out  of  the  mud  and  succeeded  in 
pitching  it.  Our  clothes  were  drying.  I  was  wondering 
how  they  had  fared  in  Ongole;  nor  had  I  long  to  wait 
for  tidings.  A  man  came  bringing  a  letter  from  Dr. 
Boggs : 

"There  is  an  awful  state  of  ruin  here.  Though  both  the 
bungalows,  the  schoolhouse  and  the  chapel  are  standing,  yet 
there  is  an  immense  amount  of  destruction.  All  the  dormi- 
tories are  ruined.  No  one  was  hurt,  thank  God!  ...  I 
am  taking  it  for  granted  that  you  are  coming  back  as  soon 
as  you  can  get  here.  We  are  very  anxious  about  you  and  are 
praying  for  you." 

I  hurried  home.  The  roads  were  washed  away  in 
many  places  and  the  bridges  were  gone.  When  at  last, 
tired  and  hungry,  I  reached  Ongole,  the  sight  that  met 
me  as  I  came  to  the  mission  premises  beggars  descrip- 


A    CHURCH    OF   FIFTEEN   THOUSAND  MEMBERS     315 

tion.  The  beautiful  shade  trees,  which  I  planted  thirteen 
years  before,  were  so  thrown  across  the  road  in  the 
compound  that  I  had  to  leave  my  pony  and  pick  my 
way  up  to  the  veranda.  Happy  and  thankful  we  all 
were,  because  no  lives  were  lost.  But  what  ruin  every- 
where! Some  fifteen  houses  in  the  mission  compound 
had  fallen.  Tidings  began  to  come  in  that  upwards  of 
twenty  schoolhouses  all  along  the  track  of  the  cyclone 
had  fallen,  and  the  houses  of  many  of  the  native  Chris- 
tians were  down.  The  crops  were  destroyed  and  the 
question  arose  whether  another  famine  was  in  sight. 

It  took  much  work  and  money  to  repair  the  damage 
wrought  by  those  few  hours  of  cyclone.  I  wondered 
what  all  this  meant.  I  wrote  to  Boston  that  I  thought 
"our  God  means  to  show  what  he  is  able  to  do, — to 
build  up  here  among  the  heathen,  and  then  how  easily 
he  can  undo  all." 

But  that  tour  had  to  be  made.  I  started  the  second 
time,  January  17,  1880.  I  was  gone  from  Ongole  just 
two  months.  I  went  over  five  taluks  which  afterwards 
became  five  separate  mission  fields.  I  could  write  of 
this  tour : 

"I  never  had  such  a  hearing  by  all  classes  before ;  in  some 
places  as  many  as  one  thousand  came  out  and  listened  to 
me  attentively  for  an  hour.  I  expected  great  things  from 
this  tour,  because  I  knew  that  many  in  America  were  pray- 
ing for  the  Telugus.  My  hope  was  more  than  fulfilled." 

The  preachers  and  I  had  made  a  careful  plan  for 
this  tour.  It  was  impossible  to  reach  all  the  four  hundred 
villages  where  our  Christians  lived.  By  camping  in 
twenty-seven  central  places  the  people  in  a  large  num- 
ber of  those  villages  were  reached.  They  were  looking 
for  me.  Their  simple  village  customs  were  used  to  ad- 


316         SOCIAL  CHRISTIANITY  IN  THE  ORIENT 

vertise  my  coming.  The  Yetties,  bearing  burdens  from 
place  to  place,  were  like  a  daily  gazette.  The  village 
elders  kept  each  other  informed  along  the  route.  Every- 
body was  wide  awake.  In  the  hamlets  along  the  road 
the  people  watched,  and  when  they  learned  that  the  cart 
with  my  tent  was  coming,  they  interviewed  my  tent- 
pitcher  and  cart-men.  They  found  out  when  I  was  ex- 
pected to  arrive,  and  all  the  detail. 

On  my  way  from  one  camp  to  another,  I  halted  in 
as  many  Christian  hamlets  as  I  could  reach  in  a  given 
time.  To  each  one  I  sent  in  advance  one  of  my  helpers, 
who  had  directions  to  bring  the  people  together  and  have 
them  ready  for  me  in  some  shady  place,  and  to  invite 
the  caste  people  to  come  also.  Frequently  I  went  to 
three  or  four  such  places  before  I  reached  my  camp,  when 
the  sun  rose  high,  and  made  it  unsafe  for  me  to  be  out 
longer.  My  stay  everywhere  had  to  be  short,  but  I  could 
say  a  kind  word  to  the  people,  and  inquire  about  their 
welfare.  I  always  prayed  with  them  and  asked  the  Lord 
Jesus  to  hold  them  steadfast  in  the  faith.  It  gave  them 
courage  and  strength. 

Often  the  Christian  hamlets  were  off  to  one  side.  It 
would  have  taken  too  much  time  to  pick  my  way  across 
the  fields  to  reach  them.  Then  the  people  came  to  the 
road.  They  waited  for  me  for  hours  under  some  shady 
tree.  I  halted.  If  pressed  for  time,  I  talked  with  them 
from  my  saddle.  I  asked  them  how  they  were  faring, 
and  told  them  to  put  their  trust  in  Jesus.  It  meant  much 
to  them.  Following  the  oriental  custom,  I  asked  them 
to  give  me  permission  to  proceed  on  my  journey.  They 
made  many  salaams  and  stood  watching  me  as  I  rode  on. 

It  seemed  to  me  sometimes  as  if  I  were  a  traveler  in 
some  desert,  following  a  mirage,  yet  I  was  not  deceived. 
Christians  were  beckoning  me  everywhere.  They  sent 
deputations  of  village  elders  begging  me  to  come.  They 


A    CHURCH    OF    FIFTEEN    THOUSAND    MEMBERS     317 

sent  letters,  carefully  written,  inviting-  me.  The  Chris- 
tians were  warm-hearted ;  often  they  shed  tears  because 
I  could  not  comply  with  their  earnest  requests  to  come 
to  some  outlying  village.  My  pony  during  those  two 
months  of  touring  wore  out  two  sets  of  shoes.  I  had 
to  have  a  double  force  of  helpers  and  assistants  to  follow 
me.  Whether  preachers  or  tent-pitchers  or  cart-men  or 
messengers,  the  men  were  worn  out  after  a  few  days  and 
had  to  rest  and  then  join  me  again.  It  was  a  time 
of  strenuous  work  for  us  all. 

My  heart  went  out  to  this  Christian  community.  The 
people  knew  that  I  loved  them ;  they  felt  it.  It  was  like 
sunshine  to  them.  They  had  come  out  of  great  tribula- 
tion. There  were  traces  of  the  famine  everywhere.  I 
could  see  it  in  their  faces.  The  stunted  bodies  of  the 
children  bore  pitiful  evidence.  I  noticed  a  loss  in  self- 
reliance  and  a  readiness  to  lean  on  anyone  for  sup- 
port. On  one  point  all  were  strong:  in  their  faith  in 
Jesus.  They  were  bravely  rising  from  the  effects  of  the 
famine,  largely  through  this  faith.  I  gave  my  full  at- 
tention to  the  Christians,  on  this  tour.  In  many  places 
they  had  difficulties  to  lay  before  me  that  could  best 
be  settled  on  the  spot.  There  were  questions  pending 
concerning  their  relations  to  each  other  and  to  the  caste 
people.  Many  of  these  questions  were  of  a  temporal  na- 
ture, yet  the  manner  in  which  they  were  answered  had 
its  effect  upon  the  spiritual  life. 

When  last  I  made  a  tour  of  this  kind,  previous  to 
the  famine,  we  had  a  membership  of  3,000.  Now  we 
had  four  times  that  number.  We  had  a  staff  of  two 
hundred  preachers  and  teachers.  The  Christian  village 
elders  came  forward  everywhere,  and  let  me  feel  that  I 
could  place  reliance  upon  them.  I  saw,  as  I  went  from 
place  to  place,  that  the  Christians  were  greatly  in  need 
of  more  teaching  and  training.  Yet  often  I  had  to  tell 


SOCIAL    CHRISTIANITY    IN    THE    ORIENT 

myself  that  even  if  they  had  a  teacher  or  preacher  with 
them  all  the  time,  instead  of  seeing-  one  only  at  intervals, 
they  could  not  be  more  earnest  in  their  Christian  life. 
The  Lord  Jesus  was  doing  this.  He  was  keeping  them 
firm  in  the  faith.  Frequently  the  only  request  which 
deputations  from  villages  had  to  make  to  me  was  for 
a  teacher.  They  wanted  their  children  to  be  taught. 
They  wanted  to  rise  in  the  social  scale.  Not  for  rupees 
or  temporal  help  did  the  people  beg  most  on  this  tour. 
The  cry  everywhere  was :  Send  us  a  teacher. 

When  there  was  failure  to  lead  the  Christian  life  the 
trouble  lay  generally  in  the  peculiar  disabilities  of  the 
Madigas.  The  three  precepts  of  the  early  days  were  still 
in  force.  The  people  held  each  other  to  them.  "Do  not 
work  on  Sunday;  do  not  eat  carrion;  do  not  worship 
idols."  It  was  still  the  program  of  their  social  uprising. 
Those  who  were  weak  in  this  were  considered  weak  in 
their  Christian  life.  Some  had  let  their  juttus  grow,  but 
now  asked  to  have  them  cut  off.  In  one  village  five  had 
to  be  excluded  for  contracting  infant  marriages  after  the 
heathen  fashion.  In  several  villages  there  were  exclu- 
sions for  adultery.  In  one  village  eleven  were  excluded 
because  they  confessed  that  they  had  deceived  us  when 
they  were  baptized.  It  is  a  marvel  that  I  did  not  find 
many  cases  of  this  kind.  An  entry  in  my  diary  speaks 
of  going  to  a  new  camp.  "On  my  way  I  halted  in  a  ham- 
let and  tried  to  reclaim  two  people  who  had  been  bap- 
tized. After  two  hours  I  saw  that  I  had  failed.  I  went 
on  to  the  camp.  Five  hundred  or  more  came  out,  of  all 
castes,  to  listen.  Many  seemed  to  believe."  I  gave  al- 
most as  much  time  to  the  two  as  I  gave  to  the  five  hun- 
dred. The  people  knew  that  I  was  unwilling  to  see  one 
of  them  stray  away. 

The  number  of  baptisms  everywhere  was  large.  Many 
were  waiting  for  me.  Thev  would  have  come  to  Ongole 


A   CHURCH   OF    FIFTEEN   THOUSAND   MEMBERS    319 

for  the  ordinance  but  for  the  distance.  Moreover,  it 
was  always  the  better  way  if  they  could  be  baptized  near 
their  own  home.  It  lent  defmiteness  to  the  step  which 
they  took  thereby.  Large  numbers  everywhere  were  on 
the  point  of  making  a  decision.  They  had  been  taught, 
and  they  believed  in  Christ  Jesus.  By  the  united  effort 
of  this  tour  the  whole  Madiga  community  of  the  taluks 
through  which  I  was  passing  was  stirred.  Everybody 
talked  about  the  new  religion.  There  was  strength  in 
numbers.  The  preachers  were  hard  at  work.  The  vil- 
lage elders  encouraged  those  in  whom  they  had  recog- 
nized evidence  of  a  change.  Often  my  sermon  marked  a 
turning  point.  There  was  a  great  turning  toward  Jesus 
as  the  Saviour  of  men.  In  twenty-eight  places  the  bap- 
tism of  large  groups  of  people  closed  the  day's  work. 
There  were  cases  where  it  could  be  said  that  they  came 
by  families.  There  were  cases  where  members  of  several 
households  in  a  village  came,  including  the  elders.  These 
were  henceforth  Christian  villages.  One  thousand  and 
sixty-eight  persons  were  received  into  the  church  on  pro- 
fession of  faith  in  Jesus  during  this  tour.  There  was  a 
harvest  afterwards.  Before  the  year  1880  had  passed 
we  had  baptized  3,000. 

We  had  a  great  time  with  the  village  idols  on  this 
tour.  Where  families  owned  idols  they  had  a  right  to 
give  them  up  when  they  became  Christians.  It  was  dif- 
ferent where  the  idols  belonged  to  the  village.  In  many 
places  they  were  still  standing  in  shrines  and  under  trees 
because  a  few  families  had  held  aloof  from  Christian 
influence.  The  fear  was  that  the  cattle  would  die  and 
the  crops  would  fail  if  the  idols  were  removed.  In  some 
of  the  villages  I  had  asked  them  for  years  to  give  them 
up;  in  some  it  was  a  recent  question.  Now  everybody 
was  willing.  In  order  to  eliminate  personal  regrets  we 
made  it  a  kind  of  triumphal  exodus  of  the  idols.  The 


village  elders  everywhere  were  prominent  in  this  matter. 
I  let  them  fill  up  several  bullock  carts  one  after  another, 
passing  from  village  to  village,  piling  on  their  idols  to 
send  to  Ongole.  Everyone  heard  of  it.  The  people 
caught  on.  They  decided  what  had  been  done  in  one 
village  could  be  done  in  another.  By  the  time  I  returned 
to  Ongole  one  hundred  idols  had  preceded  me.  Most  of 
them  were  shapeless  stones.  Nearly  all  stood  for  demon 
worship  of  some  sort.  Hideous  rites  had  been  performed 
over  many  of  them.  The  drums  were  given  up,  too,  and 
the  bells  and  all  the  other  articles  that  go  toward  idol 
worship.  My  compound  was  full  of  the  ruins  of  the 
past  worship  of  the  people. 

The  munsiffs  and  karnams  formed  a  prominent  feature 
of  this  tour.  They  came  forward  everywhere,  as  if  my 
visit  concerned  them.  They  came  to  my  tent  and  I 
showed  them  every  courtesy,  asking  them  to  sit  on  my 
camp  chairs.  Some  of  them  listened  so  eagerly  to  my 
preaching  that  I  felt  they  were  almost  persuaded  to  be- 
lieve in  Jesus.  My  diary  mentions  them  on  almost  every 
page.  In  one  village,  after  I  had  preached  to  three  hun- 
dred listeners  in  the  early  morning,  the  munsiff  walked 
a  mile  with  me  back  to  my  tent.  In  another  village  both 
munsiff  and  karnam  came,  and  the  latter  urged  me  to 
stay  another  day.  Often  they  remained  to  the  service, 
sometimes  they  came  with  us  to  the  baptism.  I  always 
talked  with  them  about  the  change  which  had  come  over 
the  Madiga  community.  In  most  places  they  told  me  that 
the  change  was  for  the  better.  They  were  glad  this  new 
religion  had  come  to  the  Madigas.  In  a  few  places,  how- 
ever, the  village  officials  did  not  hesitate  to  tell  me  that 
the  Christians  were  worse  men  than  when  they  were 
Madigas,  because  to  their  other  evil  traits  they  had  added 
insubordination. 

The  caste  people  were  never  before  or  after  so  friendly 


A   CHURCH    OF   FIFTEEN   THOUSAND   MEMBERS    321 

and  approachable  as  during  those  years  after  the  ingath- 
ering. The  stress  of  famine  had  brought  us  into  close 
connection.  I  had  been  able  to  do  a  good  turn  to  many 
a  Sudra  family  over  that  region.  They  had  come  to  me 
for  help  and  had  not  been  turned  away.  Later  I  had 
seen  that  all  were  provided  with  seed  grain,  and  they 
had  reaped  harvests  from  it.  This  friendly  feeling, 
mingled  with  gratitude,  was  still  far  from  bringing  them 
to  accept  Christianity,  yet  I  was  always  looking  for  their 
coming.  But  they  said,  "This  religion  has  come  to  the 
Madigas.  It  is  a  good  religion.  It  would  be  well  if  for 
us  also  such  a  religion  would  come."  I  remained  to  them 
the  "Madiga  Dhora."  As  Dr.  Jewett  used  to  say, 
"Brother  Clough,  it  is  hard  work  to  convert  the  non- 
elect."  The  Sudras  did  not  come. 

A  new  day  had  dawned  for  the  Madigas,  yet  their  old 
abject  position  was  still  in  evidence.  In  one  place  where 
I  camped,  I  faced  a  large  company  of  angry  Brahmans, 
who  came  to  my  tent  for  redress.  It  had  happened,  when 
I  arrived  that  morning,  that  a  large  crowd  of  people  had 
come  with  me.  As  I  was  riding  along  the  road  the  Chris- 
tians from  one  hamlet  after  another  had  joined  me.  By 
the  time  I  reached  the  bazaar  of  the  village,  hundreds 
were  surrounding  me  and  following  me.  The  caste  peo- 
ple, too,  had  come  out  to  see ;  the  place  was  swarming  with 
people.  In  the  pressure  of  the  crowd  a  Christian  woman 
had  touched  a  Brahman.  The  caste  people  considered 
this  an  intolerable  state  of  affairs.  They  demanded  of 
me  that  I  should  give  strict  orders  to  the  Madigas  that 
they  must  adhere  to  the  customs  in  force  since  time  im- 
memorial. They  threatened  to  appeal  to  the  government. 

I  told  those  angry  Brahmans  that  the  street  was  for 
all,  and  if  they  did  not  want  to  be  touched  they  must 
step  to  one  side.  Had  I  yielded  to  their  demand,  even  a 
little,  tidings  of  it  would  have  gone  over  the  country. 


322  SOCIAL    CHRISTIANITY    IN    THE   ORIENT 

The  Madigas  would  have  continued  to  walk  in  fear. 
Often  I  mimicked  them.  With  a  stroke  of  the  hand,  my 
hair  fell  over  my  face,  then  my  shoulders  drooped,  and 
my  knees  shook.  The  preachers  at  such  times  played 
their  part,  they  asked  me,  "Who  are  you?"  I  replied, 
"I  am  an  Ongole  Christian.  There  is  a  Brahman  com- 
ing way  over  there.  Where  can  I  go  so  that  the  air 
which  sweeps  over  me  cannot  touch  him?"  Such  non- 
sense went  a  long  way.  The  people  repeated  it  to  each 
other  and  laughed.  The  caste  people  heard  of  it.  My 
sermons  were  forgotten.  The  way  I  played  Madiga  was 
remembered. 

The  petty  persecutions  which  came  with  the  social  up- 
rising of  the  people  were  still  in  force.  Sometimes  a 
wave  of  them  went  over  the  country.  The  village  offi- 
cials took  note  of  each  other.  What  one  man  was  doing 
the  next  man  copied.  Then  they  waited  to  see  what  I 
was  going  to  do  about  it.  During  this  tour  I  had  to  deal 
with  a  case  of  persecution  of  more  than  ordinary  severity. 
Everyone  was  watching  to  see  whether  I  could  effect  a 
change.  If  not,  intolerant  officials  here  and  there  stood 
ready  to  take  similar  measures  to  bring  the  Christians 
back  to  their  former  condition  of  servitude. 

The  persecution  happened  in  a  large  village  in  one  of 
the  northern  taluks.  The  persecutor  was  the  munsiff,  a 
Sudra.  In  the  beginning  he  had  the  caste  people  with 
him.  We  had  twenty-seven  Christian  families  in  the 
Madiga  hamlet.  A  seminary  graduate  lived  here  and 
had  pastoral  charge  of  the  surrounding  villages  also. 
His  wife  was  the  teacher  of  a  flourishing  school  in  the 
village.  It  was  the  prosperity  of  this  little  Christian 
group  that  angered  the  caste  people.  The  serfdom  was 
gone.  They  decided  to  take  rigorous  measures.  A  feast 
to  one  of  the  female  deities  of  the  village  was  held.  Ten 
of  the  leading  Christians  were  brought  to  it  by  force. 


A    CHURCH    OF    FIFTEEN    THOUSAND   MEMBERS     323 

On  the  bank  of  the  village  pond  they  were  told  to  dip 
themselves  under  water,  and  thus  to  wash  off  the  effects 
of  their  Christian  baptism.  They  refused.  The  munsiff 
ordered  the  Yetties  to  put  long-  sticks  to  the  necks  of  the 
Christians  and  push  them  under  water.  Then  they  were 
taken  to  the  idol  and  forced  to  bow  before  it.  With  the 
warm  blood  of  sheep  the  mark  of  worship  was  made  on 
their  foreheads.  During  a  long,  hideous  night  insults 
were  heaped  upon  these  ten  Christians.  Because  they 
had  been  unyielding  they  and  all  the  rest  were  turned 
out  of  the  employ  of  the  Sudras.  They  were  not  allowed 
to  walk  on  the  village  roads  and  were  forbidden  access  to 
the  bazaar.  This  had  already  lasted  six  months.  They 
were  in  great  trouble. 

My  tent  was  pitched  in  a  grove  near  that  village.  I 
invited  the  munsiff  and  the  leading  Sudras  to  call  on  me. 
They  came,  and  practically  the  whole  town  came  with 
them;  the  grove  was  full  of  people.  For  three  hours  I 
talked  with  that  munsiff.  I  used  every  appeal  of  his  re- 
ligion, and  of  my  religion,  and  of  common  humanity,  in 
trying  to  persude  him  to  change  his  course.  I  failed.  I 
pointed  out  to  him  that  he  was  violating  British  law.  I 
told  him  "Queen  Victoria  is  our  mother,  and  you  are  eat- 
ing her  pay.  You  are  bound  to  treat  all  her  subjects 
alike.  These  Christians  are  of  the  same  religion  as  the 
Queen."  It  all  had  no  effect.  Night  came,  and  I  won- 
dered whether  I  would  do  right  in  leaving  the  Christians 
of  this  place  to  their  suffering. 

At  sunrise,  sitting  in  the  open  tent,  I  saw  the  munsiff 
talking  to  some  of  the  eighteen  men  who  the  day  before 
had  asked  for  baptism.  They  were  running  away  over 
the  fields,  as  if  for  dear  life.  I  learned  that  the  munsiff 
had  said  to  them :  "The  Dhora  was  going  last  night.  You 
kept  him  here.  Now  go  away  or  I  shall  kill  you."  I  went 
out  to  the  place  where  the  munsiff  stood.  I  reminded 


324  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN   THE   ORIENT 

him  that  the  English  Government  metes  out  heavy 
punishment  for  such  deeds  as  his,  and  that  the  loss  of 
his  position  was  possible.  With  a  careless  insolence  he 
replied,  "If  I  lose  it,  what  is  that  to  me?"  Then  I  ap- 
pealed to  God  Almighty.  I  said,  "If  the  English  Gov- 
ernment does  not  make  you  as  if  you  had  not  been,  God 
will  wipe  you  out,  unless  you  cease  to  persecute  these  peo- 
ple. He  will  reckon  with  you  before  many  months!" 

I  stayed  that  day,  for  I  wanted  to  find  some  way  of 
helping  those  persecuted  Christians.  I  requested  the 
munsiff  to  come  with  me  to  the  well  in  the  Christian 
hamlet,  into  which  he  had  thrown  logs  of  Tuma  trees, 
because  with  their  strong  odor  they  made  the  water  un- 
drinkable.  I  insisted  that  he  must  order  his  Yetties  to 
take  out  these  logs.  I  stood  by  while  they  did  it.  Then 
I  looked  for  evidence,  in  order  to  help  the  Christians  file 
a  case  in  the  magistrate's  court.  I  went  to  the  pond 
where  the  mock  baptism  had  been  performed.  I  took 
down  all  names.  I  did  not  see  clearly  whether  there  was 
a  legal  point  there  to  take  hold  of  and  carry.  I  told  the 
Christians  to  stand  firm,  and  to  tell  the  Lord  Jesus  their 
troubles,  and  to  trust  him,  for  in  some  way  he  would 
overrule  events  to  bring  them  deliverance. 

When  I  was  gone  the  Sudras  remonstrated  with  the 
munsiff,  and  said,  "What  use  is  it  to  worry  these  Chris- 
tians?" He  replied,  "Though  it  cost  me  a  cartload  of 
rupees,  I  shall  not  rest  until  there  is  not  a  Christian  left 
in  this  village."  I  tried  to  help  them  through  legal  pro- 
ceedings, but  failed.  Two  months  passed,  and  at  a  large 
meeting  in  our  Ongole  chapel  some  of  those  persecuted 
ones  were  present.  They  told  of  their  troubles  with 
tears.  It  seemed  as  if  they  could  not  endure  more.  Their 
children  were  crying  for  want  of  food.  We  took  a  col- 
lection for  them.  The  preachers  suggested  that  a  cart  be 
sent  to  Christian  villages,  and  grain  be  collected  for  those 


A    CHURCH    OF    FIFTEEN    THOUSAND    MEMBERS     325 

sufferers,  here  a  measure  and  there  a  measure.  This  was 
done.  All  felt  that  God  must  send  help  in  some  form; 
for  if  that  munsiff  could  thus  drive  a  village  of  Chris- 
tians to  the  verge  of  starvation,  and  no  one  could  stay  his 
hand,  what  had  they  to  expect  where  many  village  offi- 
cials were  hostile  to  the  Christians?  There  was  much 
prayer  and  much  anxiety,  and  the  story  of  this  persecu- 
tion was  being  told  all  over  the  field. 

Meanwhile  the  munsiff  was  suffering  more  than  the 
Christians.  A  carbuncle  had  appeared  on  his  shoulder. 
It  defied  the  skill  of  native  physicians.  Three  months 
after  the  morning  when  I  warned  him  of  the  wrath  of 
God  Almighty  he  died.  On  that  day  the  funeral  pyre  was 
raised  for  him,  the  Yetties  applied  the  torch,  and  stood  at 
a  distance  while  fire  consumed  his  mortal  remains. 

The  tidings  went  over  the  country  that  the  persecutor 
was  dead.  Yetties  told  the  story  wherever  they  went. 
The  Christians  lifted  up  their  heads  and  said,  "Our  God 
is  a  God  who  hears  our  cries."  The  caste  people  talked 
of  it  to  each  other  and  wondered.  The  village  officials 
here  and  there  decided  that  perhaps,  after  all,  it  might 
be  well  to  treat  the  Christians  kindly.  All  felt  that  the 
God  of  the  Christians  had  spoken.  The  effect  was  pro- 
nounced and  lasting. 

My  tour  convinced  me  that  I  had  no  cause  to  fear  for 
that  movement.  I  had  gone  over  much  of  the  ground 
and  had  found  warm  hearts  and  strong  faith.  All  were 
at  work.  The  village  elders  were  in  their  places.  The 
schools  were  doing  good  work.  The  preachers  were  full 
of  zeal.  Persecution  had  been  borne.  The  weight  of  it 
had  rested  on  us  all.  Not  a  voice  was  raised  in  favor  of 
compromise.  Standing  for  Jesus  Christ  and  the  new  life 
was  worth  all  it  cost. 


XIX 


A  MONTH  after  I  returned  from  my  extended  tour  over 
the  field  I  wrote  a  decisive  letter  to  the  Executive  Com- 
mittee, in  which  I  proposed  the  division  of  the  Ongole 
field.  During  the  tour,  and  in  thinking  it  over  afterwards, 
I  had  become  deeply  impressed  with  the  overwhelming 
call  for  work  which  ought  to  be  done  everywhere.  We 
had  labored  strenuously  during  the  two  months  of  tour- 
ing, yet  had  passed  through  only  five  of  the  nine  or  ten 
taluks  over  which  the  movement  had  spread.  Later  in 
the  year  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Boggs  made  a  tour  of  one  month. 
They  found  warm  hearts  and  open  minds  everywhere. 
Nearly  600  were  baptized  during  their  tour. 

The  size  of  the  Ongole  field  was  unwieldy.  It  ex- 
tended ninety  miles  north  and  south,  and  one  hundred 
miles  east  and  west.  There  were  probably  two  million 
people  in  this  area,  living  in  two  thousand  towns  and  vil- 
lages, more  or  less.  The  movement  had  had  a  wide 
sweep.  The  Ongole  methods  had  had  a  chance  to  work 
themselves  out.  Most  of  our  Christians  knew  little  of 
other  missionary  societies  or  other  methods.  Beyond  the 
confines  of  the  Ongole  field  missionaries  of  two  societies 
from  England  and  one  society  from  America  were  at 
work.  In  several  places  their  boundaries  and  ours  over- 
lapped. Their  converts  were  not  from  the  Madigas. 

I  realized,  in  deciding  this  question,  that  the  day  of 

326 


EASTERN    PEOPLE    AND    WESTERN    ORGANIZATION     327 

pioneers  was  now  over.  We  men  of  the  early  years 
could  find  ourselves  so  buried  in  heathenism  that  we  had 
to  look  for  our  nearest  missionary  neighbor  fifty  or  one 
hundred  miles  away.  A  different  day  had  come.  New 
societies  were  being  founded.  The  old  societies  were 
sending  strong  reinforcements.  New  ideas  were  gaining 
ground  about  the  amount  of  careful  labor  which  should 
extend  from  the  mission  stations  over  the  surrounding 
country.  The  South  India  Missionary  Conference  had 
discussed  this  question.  A  consensus  of  opinion  had  been 
reached  that  no  mission  field  should  extend  further  than 
thirty  miles  from  its  headquarters.  I  could  see  the  jus- 
tice in  this  trend  of  opinion  in  mission  affairs,  and  was 
ready  to  adapt  myself  to  it. 

Since  the  time  of  the  ingathering  I  had  often  realized 
that  there  was  an  element  of  instability  in  the  Ongole 
movement  so  long  as  a  large  part  of  the  responsibility 
lay  on  the  shoulders  of  one  man.  If  an  accident  were 
to  happen  to  me,  or  my  health  were  to  break  down,  who 
would  be  willing  to  take  my  place?  I  had  to  tell  myself 
that  willingness  and  capacity  were  not  the  only  requisites 
in  this  case.  The  movement  and  I  were  as  one  organism. 
I  sought  counsel  with  my  fellow-missionaries.  All  were 
convinced  that  I  must  divide  the  field,  and  do  it  soon, 
letting  the  division  take  a  normal  course  and  thus  pre- 
vent disaster. 

My  proposition  to  the  Executive  Committee  therefore 
was  that  several  of  the  outlying  taluks  were  to  be  made 
independent  mission  fields  without  delay.  The  mission- 
ary in  each  case  was  to  erect  a  bungalow  in  the  taluk 
town  and  thus  be  within  easy  access  of  the  thousands  of 
Christians  in  the  taluk.  Dr.  Boggs,  who  had  been  asso- 
ciated with  me  at  Ongole  for  over  a  year,  was  willing  to 
take  charge  of  the  Cumbum  and  Markapur  taluks,  which 
from  the  first  had  formed  an  important  center  of  the 


328  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN   THE   ORIENT 

movement.  We  requested  that  other  men  be  sent.  Of 
the  nine  or  ten  taluks  included  in  the  Ongole  field  four 
or  five  of  those  farthest  from  Ongole  were  to  be  estab- 
lished as  separate  fields  as  soon  as  practicable. 

These  plans  were  good,  but  for  the  time  being  they 
came  to  naught.  The  reason  was  that  I  had  moved 
away  from  the  beaten  track  with  my  methods.  The 
report  was  spreading  that  a  man  who  came  to  Ongole 
must  work  by  Ongole  methods.  Men  at  that  time  were 
not  always  willing  to  do  this.  Those  methods  had 
not  then  stood  the  test  of  experience.  They  seemed  to 
many  due  to  my  personality,  and  my  manner  of  working. 
I  could  not  adequately  explain  the  situation  to  anyone. 
There  were  times  when  I  took  the  shortest  line  between 
two  given  points,  and  knew  my  reasons  for  doing  it. 
But  how  to  make  them  clear  to  the  next  man  was  another 
question.  Some  of  my  methods  were  not  of  my  making ; 
circumstances  had  forced  them  upon  me.  To  some  I 
had  adapted  myself  willingly;  they  went  along  the  line 
of  least  resistance  and  were  sensible.  About  others  I 
had  doubts.  They  stood  for  a  course  which  I  had  found 
the  best  possible  under  prevailing  conditions.  I  had 
always  sought  guidance  from  Jesus,  and  believed  that  he 
was  in  these  methods. 

&>  I  did  everything  in  my  power  to  help  the  men  who 
came  after  me.  I  took  them  touring  with  me.  I  an- 
swered their  questions.  I  explained  to  them  conditions 
which  are  difficult  to  grasp  except  after  years  of  experi- 
ence in  the  country.  I  had  myself  gone  through  a  severe 
apprenticeship  when  I  began  work  in  Ongole.  Thrown 
upon  my  own  resources,  I  had  learned  to  look  to  God  for 
guidance  and  to  go  ahead.  No  doubt  pioneer  habits 
were  strong  upon  me.  We  men  of  the  old  days  had  our 
own  way  of  working.  It  became  a  question  with  the 
younger  men  who  clustered  about  us  whether  they  would 


EASTERN    PEOPLE   AND   WESTERN   ORGANIZATION     329 

walk  in  the  track  we  had  hewn.  That  movement  among 
the  Madigas  had  given  me  a  training  which  I  could  share 
with  no  other  man,  no  matter  how  willing  I  might  be  to 
do  so.  Moreover,  I  had  a  place  in  the  hearts  of  those 
Madigas  which  I  could  neither  give  nor  bequeath  to  any- 
one else.  No  matter  how  loyal  they  might  learn  to  be  to 
the  next  man,  they  never  ceased  to  speak  of  me  as  the 
"pedda  Dhora" — the  big  or  elder  Dhora — with  a  peculiar 
affection.  It  was  not  in  my  power  to  alter  this  state  of 
affairs.  My  successors  had  to  make  the  best  of  it. 

In  later  years,  fellow-missionaries  have  told  me  they 
wished  I  had  taken  them  more  into  my  confidence  in  the 
early  days  and  explained  to  them  more  fully  how  I  was 
trying  to  let  the  Madigas  remain  in  their  own  groove, 
while  they  were  slowly  growing  into  the  forms  of  a  re- 
ligion that  had  been  brought  to  them  from  the  West.  I 
was  not  aware  of  having  withheld  anything  from  them. 
I  did  not  see  it  plainly  myself  in  the  early  days.  When 
we  are  in  the  midst  of  anything  we  can  seldom  formulate 
all  our  reasons  for  a  given  course  of  action.  It  is  in 
after  years  that  we  see  our  motives  clearly.  But  if  I  had 
told  my  successors  to  how  great  an  extent  several  of  the 
leaders  among  our  preachers  were  responsible  for  the 
Ongole  methods,  it  would  have  filled  their  minds  with 
doubt  about  those  methods  at  the  outset.  Moreover,  they 
would  have  raised  a  contention  with  me  regarding  the 
organization  of  churches.  They  would  have  told  me 
that  the  gospel  was  adapted  out  and  out  to  all  races  and 
climes,  and  that  as  the  organized,  self-sustaining  Chris- 
tian church  was  part  of  the  gospel,  it  also  was  adapted 
to  all  places  without  distinction.  Afterwards,  in  looking 
back,  they  saw  it  more  clearly,  and  so  did  I;  for  the 
trend  of  the  times  had  come  to  help  us. 

The  tendency  of  that  whole  situation  at  Ongole  was 
always  in  the  direction  of  leaving  the  burden  of  work 


33°  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN   THE   ORIENT 

and  responsibility  on  me.  Year  after  year  I  carried  a 
heavy  load.  At  this  juncture,  in  1880,  the  result  was 
that  the  division  of  the  field  was  postponed.  The  growth 
did  not  cease,  neither  in  numbers  nor  in  active  Christian 
life.  I  looked  to  the  Lord  Jesus  to  help  me,  and  he  did 
not  fail  me. 

The  year  1880  was  a  decisive  year  in  our  history  at 
Ongole.  Projects  which  had  been  maturing  for  years 
now  came  to  completion.  One  of  these  was  a  high  school 
for  our  Christian  community.  It  could  no  longer  be 
said  that  the  Madigas  of  that  region  were  an  illiterate 
people.  The  number  of  our  village  schools  scattered 
over  the  field  had  recently  grown  to  nearly  150,  with 
more  than  2,000  pupils.  Some  of  these  schools  were 
very  elementary,  taught  under  a  tree  by  a  teacher  who 
could  barely  read  and  write.  Others  had  reached  a  fair 
degree  of  efficiency,  and  were  taught  by  recent  seminary 
graduates.  We  had  our  large  station  schools  at  Ongole, 
with  300  pupils.  Our  best  men  and  women  were  sent 
to  our  theological  seminary.  But  that  whole  educational 
scheme  was  unfinished  without  a  high  school.  After 
much  correspondence  with  the  home  board,  funds  suf- 
ficient were  at  our  disposal.  We  made  a  beginning  in 
May,  1880,  with  one  hundred  students,  of  whom  twenty- 
seven  were  Christian  lads. 

All  our  schools  were  under  the  supervision  of  the  edu- 
cational department  of  the  government  in  Madras.  A 
substantial  grant-in-aid  was  secured.  Our  high  school 
was  also  to  come  under  this  system.  It  was  to  be  open 
to  Christians,  Hindus  and  Mohammedans  alike.  From 
the  beginning  we  had  Christian  teachers  on  the  staff,  and 
the  Bible  was  taught  to  all  an  hour  each  day.  An  in- 
creasing number  of  Brahman  boys  came.  They  knew 
when  they  entered  that  they  would  sit  on  the  same 
benches  with  our  Christian  boys,  and  raised  no  objec- 


EASTERN    PEOPLE    AND    WESTERN    ORGANIZATION     33! 

tions.  But  they  considered  the  highest  class  their  own. 
When  now  a  Christian  was  ready  to  enter  it  they  rose  in 
protest.  They  left  the  school  in  a  body,  and  took  nearly 
all  the  non-Christian  boys  with  them.  It  soon  became 
apparent  to  them  that  this  made  no  difference  to  anyone. 
The  school  continued  without  them.  They  came  back. 
This  meant  a  long  stride  in  proving  that  the  day  of 
Pariah  degradation  was  over.  Education  formed  a 
bridge  that  connected  Brahman  and  Pariah.  Rev.  W.  R. 
Manley  became  principal  of  the  school,  and  tided  it  over 
the  difficulties  of  its  first  seven  years.  Those  who  had 
doubted  whether  the  Madigas  had  the  capacity  to  receive 
an  education  were  forced  to  admit  that  it  was  within 
their  power. 

I  had  opposition  to  face  in  opening  this  high  school, 
both  in  America  and  in  India.  Some  said  it  was  prema- 
ture, because  we  had  not  a  sufficient  number  of  boys  in 
our  Telugu  Mission  ready  to  enter  and  thus  justify  the  es- 
tablishment of  such  a  school.  This  objection  was  over- 
come after  a  few  years.  Then  there  was  always  the  con- 
tention that  it  was  not  a  legitimate  use  of  mission  money 
to  educate  orientals,  who  afterwards  were  sometimes 
known  to  use  their  education  in  a  way  hostile  to  Chris- 
tianity. I  always  felt  that  this  was  a  minor  consideration. 
I  was  not  at  any  time  influenced  by  discussions  on  this 
subject.  I  could  see  only  one  side  to  the  whole  question. 
Unmoved  by  any  opposition,  whether  from  Hindus  or 
from  the  men  of  my  own  race,  I  forged  ahead.  I  was 
bound  to  see  an  educated  Christian  community  in  my  day. 
To  some  extent  I  succeeded  in  this. 

There  was  another  important  direction  in  which  I 
made  a  move  in  1880,  and  by  force  of  contrast  it  is  the 
more  remarkable  that  in  this  I  had  no  opposition  to  face. 
Everyone  looked  upon  it  as  the  right  move.  We  now 
took  the  first  step  toward  the  organization  of  separate 


332  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN   THE   ORIENT 

churches.     The  ground  was  unbroken  in  this  respect. 

The  Baptist  church  at  Ongole,  organized  with  eight 
members  January  i,  1867,  was  the  church  into  which 
we  had  received  more  than  15,000  members.  There 
were  no  other  churches  on  the  Ongole  field.  We  had 
seven  ordained  native  preachers.  In  a  natural  way  it 
had  come  to  pass,  in  the  course  of  the  years,  that  Chris- 
tian centers  of  development  were  formed  here  and  there 
on  the  field.  We  now  had  more  than  thirty  of  these.  In 
each  one  of  them  there  was  a  man  who  practically  per- 
formed the  functions  of  a  pastor.  The  men  had  grown 
with  the  centers.  Together  they  had  formed  the  con- 
tinuity of  the  movement.  The  only  course  now  open  to 
us  was  to  organize  these  centers  into  churches,  and  to 
ordain  the  leading  men  in  them  as  Christian  ministers. 

These  were  the  men  who  had  stood  together  as  a 
group  of  leaders  from  the  beginning  of  the  movement. 
Humble  men  in  their  walks  in  life,  God  had  honored 
them.  In  the  social  uprising  of  their  people  in  the  months 
of  famine,  and  in  the  days  of  the  ingathering,  these  men 
had  stood  shoulder  to  shoulder  with  me.  They  had  looked 
forward  to  their  ordination.  Our  Christians  took  a  deep 
interest  in  the  events  that  were  now  to  take  place.  They 
wanted  nothing  changed  in  the  relations  sustained  be- 
tween themselves  and  their  preachers.  But  if  it  was  in 
accordance  with  the  rules  of  the  Christian  religion  that 
they  should  pass  through  an  examination,  and,  if  found 
worthy,  receive  the  Christian  ordination,  they  felt  that 
it  was  all  as  it  should  be.  They  tried  to  learn  what  it 
meant,  and  to  harmonize  it  with  ideas  of  religious  prac- 
tices familiar  and  congenial  to  them  in  their  Indian  life. 

In  response  to  a  call  from  the  Ongole  Church  a  council 
convened  at  Ongole  April  14-16,  1880,  to  consider  the 
propriety  of  formally  setting  apart  to  the  work  of  the 
gospel  ministry  those  native  preachers  whose  labors  had 


EASTERN    PEOPLE    AND    WESTERN    ORGANIZATION     333 

already  been  crowned  with  so  much  success.  Dr.  Downie 
came  from  Nellore  and  Dr.  Williams  from  Ramapatnam 
with  delegates  from  both  stations.  The  council  was  or- 
ganized ;  the  examination  was  close  and  deliberate  and 
occupied  two  days  and  a  half.  Dr.  Boggs  reported  about 
this  examination : 

"It  embraced  as  usual  the  important  points  of  conver- 
sion, and  call  to  the  ministry,  and  an  outline  of  Christian 
doctrine;  many  testing  questions  were  asked  both  by  the 
missionaries  and  native  delegates  and  the  answers  were 
generally  very  satisfactory.  Their  knowledge  of  the  Chris- 
tian system  seemed  surprising,  especially  after  hearing  each 
one  of  them,  in  relating  his  experience,  speak  of  the  time, 
only  a  few  years  back,  when  they  were  worshiping  idols. 
The  result  was  that  twenty-four  of  the  best,  most  experi- 
enced, and  successful  preachers  connected  with  the  Ongole 
Mission  were  considered  worthy  of  the  confidence  implied 
in  this  act  of  public  recognition." 

Dr.  Downie  preached  the  ordination  sermon,  and  Dr. 
Williams  delivered  an  earnest  charge  both  to  the  church 
and  the  candidates.  Then  the  twenty-four  all  knelt,  and 
the  hands  of  the  leading  ministers  were  laid  on  them 
while  the  ordaining  prayer  was  offered  by  Rev.  N.  Kana- 
kiah  of  Nellore.  The  benediction  was  pronounced  by 
Yerraguntla  Periah,  the  oldest  man  among  those  just 
ordained,  and  the  firstfruits  of  them  all. 

It  was  an  unusual  occasion.  Not  often  in  the  history 
of  modern  missions  have  twenty-four  men  been  ordained 
to  the  ministry  at  the  same  time.  Theological  schools  of 
learning  had  had  little  to  do  with  the  making  of  most  of 
these  men.  Only  a  few  of  the  twenty-four  were  gradu- 
ates of  the  Ramapatnam  Seminary.  The  rest  had  been 
taught  by  me  during  the  six  weeks  of  the  preachers'  in- 
stitute, held  every  hot  season  during  the  early  years  in 


334  SOCIAL    CHRISTIANITY   IN   THE   ORIENT 

Ongole.  And  on  me  also  theological  schools  had  not  had 
an  opportunity  to  leave  their  mark.  Thus  we  all  were  off 
the  beaten  track  of  ecclesiastical  proceedings.  We  had 
worked  together  and  the  Lord  Jesus  had  blessed  our 
labors.  Their  ordination  was  not  the  door  to  their  min- 
istry. It  was  the  other  way.  Their  ministry  demanded 
recognition  through  ordination. 

The  first  step  had  been  taken.  Six  months  later  we 
were  facing  the  next  step.  Letters  had  been  coming  to 
me  from  the  larger  groups  of  members  here  and  there 
over  the  field,  who  wished  to  form  separate  churches  with 
their  own  pastors.  The  Ramapatnam  Seminary  had 
done  its  work  in  preparing  the  way  for  this.  Dr.  Wil- 
liams had  realized  what  was  needed,  and  had  worked  to 
meet  the  need.  He  and  his  assistant  teachers  had  drilled 
successive  classes  of  students  on  the  subject  of  the  New 
Testament  church  and  its  ordinances.  What  was  taught 
in  the  seminary  found  its  way  into  receptive  minds  all 
over  the  field.  They  wanted  their  own  churches.  They 
wrote  to  me  and  'signed  long  lists  of  names  to  their  let- 
ters. A  package  of  them  is  still  among  my  papers. 

One  of  our  large  quarterly  meetings  came,  just  six 
months  after  the  ordination  of  the  twenty-four.  On  Sun- 
day, October  10,  1880,  I  preached  from  Psalm  48:14 — 
"This  God  is  our  God  forever  and  ever;  he  will  be  our 
guide  unto  death."  Dr.  Boggs  was  then  still  associated 
with  me  at  Ongole,  and  Mr.  Manley  also  assisted.  We 
went  through  all  the  hard  work  which  these  quarterly 
meetings  always  brought.  Then,  October  13,  we  gave 
our  whole  attention  to  a  lengthy  inquiry  concerning  the 
setting  off  of  twenty-six  churches. 

There  were  present  at  that  deliberation  in  the  chapel 
the  representative  members  of  the  Ongole  Church  from 
all  portions  of  its  field.  We  had  on  the  table  before  us 
the  applications  of  the  various  groups  of  members,  re- 


EASTERN    PEOPLE    AND    WESTERN    ORGANIZATION     335 

questing  dismissal  from  the  parent  church  in  order  to 
form  independent  churches.  The  Ongole  Church,  repre- 
sented by  its  leading  members,  was  ready  to  vote  on  this 
subject.  It  is  true  the  Ongole  Church  now  numbered 
14,872,  and  there  was  no  way  of  obtaining  the  vote  of 
even  one  tenth  of  the  membership.  But  we  had  their 
leaders  there  with  us  in  the  chapel.  There  were  thirty- 
three  ordained  preachers  and  thirty  unordained.  There 
were  nearly  one  hundred  and  fifty  village  school  teachers; 
there  were  several  hundred  deacons,  and  there  were  other 
members  who  had  come  from  here  and  there.  No  one 
could  say  that  we  missionaries  had  done  this  work  with- 
out the  cooperation  of  the  native  church.  We  tried  to 
adhere  strictly  to  New  Testament  methods. 

It  was  only  a  partial  solution  of  the  question  of  or- 
ganization. We  dismissed  only  2,000  members  out  of 
our  total  of  nearly  15,000 — less  than  one-seventh. 
But  it  was  a  beginning.  We  now  taught  them  Bap- 
tist church  autonomy.  They  could  receive  members 
by  baptism,  they  could  exercise  church  discipline.  They 
bought  a  plate  and  a  cup  in  the  bazaar  for  their  com- 
munion service;  they  bought  a  bell  to  call  their  mem- 
bers together.  We  gave  to  each  a  book  with  the  names 
of  their  members  recorded.  It  was  a  very  rudimen- 
tary attempt  at  church  organization.  Those  special  con- 
ceptions of  the  church  which  belong  to  our  own  race 
did  not  appeal  to  them  because  they  knew  nothing  of  their 
history.  They  lacked  the  range  of  ideas  that  would  have 
helped  to  give  an  intelligent  hold  upon  those  distinctly 
Christian  conceptions.  Much  of  the  most  valuable  acqui- 
sition of  Christian  thought  was  inaccessible  to  them. 

The  people  understood  that  they  must  support  their 
preacher  and  their  teacher.  There  would  have  been  a 
great  deal  of  willingness  among  them  to  do  this  if  it  had 
not  been  for  their  poverty.  Recently  emerged  from  a 


SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN   THE   ORIENT 

fearful  famine,  they  had  little  themselves.  Many  a  fam- 
ily among  the  Christians  had  barely  enough  to  go  around 
for  one  meal  a  day.  To  help  feed  the  preacher  and 
teacher  from  this  meant  stinting  themselves  till  it  hurt. 

Those  preachers,  capable  and  faithful  though  they  were 
in  their  appointed  places,  were  unwilling  to  cut  loose 
from  their  organic  connection  with  headquarters.  They 
felt  they  could  not  stand  alone  without  the  advice,  the 
help  and  the  backing  which  the  missionary  could  give 
them.  The  impetus  of  the  movement  was  still  on  us. 
We  could  not  split  ourselves  into  separate  units.  The 
cohesion  of  the  movement  was  organic,  the  ideal  of  the 
Western  church  was  in  this  case  artificial. 

Thus,  while  those  ordained  preachers  had  their  homes 
in  the  villages  where  the  new  churches  had  been  or- 
ganized, they  still  remained  responsible  for  the  groups 
of  villages  which  constituted  their  little  field.  This  ne- 
cessitated frequent  absence  from  their  homes,  while  in  a 
number  of  cases  their  wives  kept  up  the  services  on  Sun- 
day and  taught  school  during  the  week.  For  their  pas- 
toral work  they  received  pay,  generally  in  kind,  from 
their  members.  For  their  evangelistic  work  they  still 
considered  themselves  under  my  direction,  and  depended 
on  the  mission  for  their  quarterly  allowance.  To  many 
of  them  the  actual  purchasing  value  of  the  few  rupees 
put  into  their  hands  was  of  slight  importance  as 
compared  to  the  prestige  it  gave  them  to  be  still  con- 
nected with  our  Ongole  Mission.  They  could  not  forego 
the  stimulating  effect  of  the  quarterly  meeting  at  Ongole, 
which  was  calculated  in  those  days  to  wind  up  everyone 
for  renewed  effort  for  another  three  months. 

The  quarterly  meetings  of  those  days  played  a  great 
part  in  the  movement.  They  had  grown  to  these  large 
proportions  from  a  small  beginning.  Away  back  in  the 
early  days  Yerraguntla  Periah  and  I  agreed  that  it  would 


EASTERN    PEOPLE    AND    WESTERN    ORGANIZATION     337 

be  well  for  him  to  come  to  Ongole  every  month  if  pos- 
sible for  the  communion  service,  and  to  confer  with  me 
about  the  work.  As  the  band  of  workers  grew  they,  too, 
came.  Converts  came  with  them  for  baptism.  My  con- 
nection with  the  staff  of  workers  was  kept  active  and 
dominant  by  these  monthly  meetings.  As  the  size  of  the 
field  increased,  the  monthly  meetings  grew  unwieldy.  The 
workers  had  to  walk  long  distances  back  and  forth.  We 
were  scarcely  through  the  work  of  one  meeting  when 
another  was  at  hand.  Even  before  the  famine  we  had  to 
make  it  a  bimonthly  gathering,  and  then  it  became  quar- 
terly. 

In  those  days,  while  we  were  yet  all  together,  and  di- 
visions were  only  being  planned,  these  meetings  were 
occasions  to  which  we  all  looked  forward.  Preachers, 
teachers,  both  men  and  women,  helpers,  and  many  of 
the  more  prominent  members  came  flocking  into  Ongole 
in  groups  from  every  portion  of  the  more  than  7,000 
square  miles  of  the  field.  The  compound  began  to  fill 
on  Saturday  afternoon.  They  stood  together,  dusty  and 
footsore  from  walking  seventy  miles  in  some  cases,  and 
exchanged  greetings.  To  the  recognized  staff  among 
them  I  had  to  extend  the  hospitality  of  the  compound; 
for  I  had  asked  them  to  come  that  we  might  jointly  trans- 
act the  business  of  the  mission.  Our  first  meeting  always 
occurred  on  a  Saturday,  toward  evening.  The  list  was 
read  and  each  received  an  allowance  of  a  small  silver  coin 
per  day,  the  equivalent  of  about  five  cents.  Each  family 
was  given  an  earthen  pot  from  a  big  pile  of  pots  stacked 
ready  near  by.  In  the  cold  season  we  gave  mats  to  lie 
on.  As  night  fell  there  were  little  campfires  all  over  the 
compound,  and  groups  around  them  waiting  for  the  rice 
and  curry  that  was  under  preparation,  and  there  was 
much  talking  and  relating  experiences  of  the  past  months. 

On   Sunday  morning   it   was   my   custom   to  preach 


33^  SOCIAL    CHRISTIANITY    IN    THE    ORIENT 

a  carefully  prepared  sermon  to  the  700  people  or 
more  who  filled  the  chapel  to  overflowing.  I  knew 
that  all  the  workers  were  waiting  for  points  which  they 
could  take  and  tell  over  the  field  during  the  following 
months.  My  quarterly  meeting  sermon  filled  a  need,  and 
unless  it  was  an  hour  or  more  in  length  my  men  were  not 
satisfied.  Then  came  communion  service.  After  a  few 
hours  of  rest  we  examined  the  several  hundred  candi- 
dates who  usually  were  brought  from  the  field  for  bap- 
tism. We  closed  the  day  under  the  tamarind  tree  in  our 
garden  by  the  baptistery,  where  each  preacher  baptized 
those  who  came  from  his  field. 

The  following  days  of  the  quarterly  meeting  were  full 
of  hard  work.  There  were  payments  to  make.  Twice  a 
year  we  gave  to  each  worker  on  our  list  a  suit  of  clothes, 
because  I  found  that  it  was  well  to  conform  to  the  native 
custom  of  payment  in  kind  and  not  in  money.  Besides, 
the  white  suit,  which  cost  less  than  one  dollar,  was  the 
same  for  all  and  thus  constituted  a  kind  of  uniform, 
which  I  found  had  its  uses.  We  gave  them  tracts  to 
distribute  on  the  field,  and  medicines  for  their  house- 
holds, since  they  were  far  from  medical  aid  away  off  in 
the  jungle.  Above  all,  we  gave  them  counsel  and  en- 
couragement, and  words  of  commendation  where  in 
place.  The  preachers  made  known  to  me  any  difficulties 
on  their  fields.  School  matters  were  adjusted  with  the 
teachers.  Cases  of  distress  were  given  a  hearing,  and 
relieved  if  possible. 

I  gave  myself  wholly  to  the  people  during  those  days. 
When  all  were  satisfied,  and  I  had  prayed  with  them  and 
committed  us  all  to  the  Lord  Jesus  and  his  care  and 
guidance,  I  sent  them  on  their  way  home.  And  then  I 
was  a  tired  man.  "Invincibles,"  as  I  called  them — people 
with  unreasonable  requests — generally  stayed  behind  to 
see  what  they  could  get  from  me.  But  I  withdrew  into 


EASTERN    PEOPLE   AND   WESTERN   ORGANIZATION     339 

my  room,  closed  the  doors,  and  rested  under  the  punkah. 
Some  one  among1  the  preachers,  even  at  ordinary  times, 
was  always  at  hand  to  keep  those  in  check  who  could 
never  be  satisfied.  They  used  to  say  to  such:  "Our 
Dhora  now  has  given  all  his  strength  to  the  people.  If 
you  kill  him  what  good  can  that  do  you  ?  Go  home  and 
tell  your  troubles  to  God  only ;  for  our  Dhora  is  bent  over 
with  the  load  which  the  people  have  laid  upon  him."  It 
generally  took  me  several  days  to  rebound  after  one  of 
these  quarterly  meetings. 

I  loved  the  people  and  let  them  feel  it.  There  was  no 
ecclesiastical  dignity  about  me.  Warmth  was  what  they 
wanted.  I  went  about  among  them  and  slapped  one  man 
a  little  on  the  shoulder,  another  I  shook  a  little,  with  the 
next  I  had  a  bit  of  pleasantry,  next  I  mimicked  some  one, 
around  my  most  trusted  men  I  put  my  arm  and  asked 
them  what  they  had  been  doing.  It  made  them  happy.  I 
learned  this  through  Yerraguntla  Periah  in  the  early 
days.  He  had  come  in  as  usual,  but  went  about  with  a 
sad,  downcast  face.  Mrs.  Clough  finally  asked  him 
whether  anything-  was  troubling  him.  He  replied,  "I 
fear  our  Dhora  does  not  love  me  any  more.  Since  I  came 
several  days  ago  he  has  not  once  slapped  my  shoulder,  or 
shaken  me,  or  put  his  arm  around  me,  or  made  fun  with 
me.  I  am  very  sad."  Of  course  Mrs.  Clough  lost  no 
time  in  telling  me  about  this,  and  I  made  up  to  him  for 
all  my  neglect.  It  was  an  eye-opener  to  me,  and  showed 
me  that  they  prized  above  everything  else  the  little  indi- 
cations that  I  was  getting  near  to  them,  as  man  to  man. 

It  seems  these  traits  of  personality  were  part  of  my 
equipment  for  the  work.  I  may  not  always  have  been 
wise  in  giving  free  play  to  my  sense  of  humor,  but  the 
people  loved  me  for  it,  because  it  brought  me  near  to 
them.  I  often  did  a  bit  of  acting  and  could  imitate  their 
voices  and  their  ways  of  doing  things.  They  thought 


34°  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN    THE   ORIENT 

it  great.  If  something  they  had  done,  or  were  doing, 
made  me  angry,  and  I  scathed  them  with  sharp  reproof, 
it  was  an  item  of  interest  on  the  field.  By  the  degree  of 
my  anger  the  people  gauged  the  serious  nature  of  the 
offense,  and  all  took  notice. 

My  physical  endurance  during  those  years  held  out 
notwithstanding  climate  and  work.  I  could  stand  on  my 
veranda  all  morning  and  take  up  the  case  of  one  deputa- 
tion after  another  from  villages  far  and  near.  They  sat 
under  the  trees  in  front  of  my  veranda  sometimes  sev- 
eral days  before  their  turn  came,  and  did  it  patiently; 
for  nothing  would  satisfy  them  unless  they  had  a  hearing 
from  me  personally.  I  was  always  surrounded  by  a 
band  of  men  and  women  who  did  preliminary  work  with 
the  people,  and  told  me  in  a  few  simple  words  what  was 
wanted,  making  long  inquiries  unnecessary.  Generally 
the  requests  were  legitimate;  it  concerned  their  preacher 
or  their  school,  or  there  was  a  persecution,  or  the  Chris- 
tians in  the  village  were  quarreling,  or  there  was  a  griev- 
ous case  of  poverty,  sickness  or  death. 

Sometimes  I  rebelled ;  I  told  the  people  they  were  heap- 
ing their  burdens  upon  me  unjustly.  If  their  Sudra 
masters  scolded  them,  if  they  had  a  little  pain  in  their 
limbs — I  used  to  tell  them — they  rose  up  and  said,  "Let 
us  go  to  Ongole  and  tell  our  Clough  Dhora."  For  such  I 
had  little  welcome.  On  the  other  hand,  I  made  it  a  rule 
never  to  let  anyone  feel  that  he  had  nothing  more  to  do 
with  me.  No  matter  how  I  had  rebuked  a  man,  or  how 
sharply  I  had  protested  against  his  doings,  I  always  found 
a  bridge  between  that  man  and  myself,  even  if  it  was 
only  a  bit  of  humor  and  nonsense.  Thus  I  held  the 
Christians  together,  and  kept  in  touch  with  the  adherents 
and  caste  people. 

The  friends  of  the  Ongole  Mission,  especially  those  in 
America,  often  feared  that  since  there  were  no  organized 


EASTERN    PEOPLE   AND    WESTERN    ORGANIZATION     34! 

churches  on  our  field,  the  movement  was  lacking  in  en- 
during qualities.  There  was  no  cause  for  fear.  It  was 
not  a  movement  without  organization.  The  men  who 
were  closest  to  the  people  were  our  deacons,  the  village 
elders  of  former  days,  then  came  the  teachers,  men  and 
women,  the  Bible  women  and  preachers,  and  finally  I 
was  always  there,  accessible  to  the  highest  and  to  the 
lowest.  Moreover,  according  to  the  New  Testament 
conception  of  the  church,  the  whole  field  was  dotted  with 
churches ;  for  there  were  groups  of  believers  everywhere, 
who  were  "steadfast  in  their  faith  in  Jesus,"  and  to 
whom  "the  Lord  added  such  as  should  be  saved."  The 
spiritual  life  on  the  field  was  not  essentially  affected,  or 
increased  in  vigor,  by  that  mass  ordination  and  the  set- 
ting apart  of  twenty-six  churches.  It  merely  brought  the 
Christians  more  into  conformity  with  the  church  of 
Christ  and  its  ordinances. 

I  used  to  talk  sometimes  of  "paper  churches."  To 
have  it  all  down  on  paper,  ready  for  statistical  tables :  so 
many  members,  deacons,  baptisms,  contributions — all  this 
does  not  constitute  a  church.  On  the  other  hand,  a 
group  of  believers,  full  of  love  for  the  Lord  Jesus  and 
good  works  in  their  own  oriental  way,  seemed  to  me  in 
many  cases  all  we  could  expect  in  the  way  of  a  church  for 
the  time  being. 

This  attempt  at  organization  would  have  been  far  more 
effective  if  it  had  been  made  before  the  famine  and  in- 
gathering came  upon  us.  If  that  theological  seminary 
had  been  given  to  us  when  I  first  began  to  plead  for  it, 
soon  after  we  settled  in  Ongole,  those  valuable  ten  years 
would  not  have  been  lost,  so  far  as  church  organization 
was  concerned.  But  it  is  possible  that  this  was  not  in 
the  divine  plan. 

It  may  have  been  well  that,  with  Mrs.  Clough  to  help 
me,  I  had  to  train  the  preachers  myself,  who  formed  my 


342  SOCIAL    CHRISTIANITY   IN    THE   ORIENT 

corps  of  workers  during  famine  and  ingathering1.  May- 
be that  was  what  God  wanted.  There  was  a  complete 
understanding  between  them  and  me.  I  knew  what  to 
expect  of  each.  They  knew  me,  and  knew  to  what  ex- 
tent I  would  stand  by  them  through  thick  and  thin.  I 
must  say  there  was  no  lack  of  loyalty  on  their  part. 
There  were  times  when  they  showed  by  their  actions  that 
they  were  willing  to  pluck  out  their  eyes  and  give  them  to 
me.  They  showed  their  devotion  in  all  sorts  of  ways.  If 
I  had  rivers  to  ford  they  took  me  on  their  shoulders  and 
put  me  on  my  feet  on  the  other  side  entirely  dry.  If  I 
was  hungry  out  on  tour  they  declined  to  eat  until  they 
knew  that  I  had  had  my  portion.  Often  they  put  them- 
selves between  me  and  angry  people  and  refused  to  leave 
until  they  knew  I  was  safe.  This  mutual  loyalty  formed 
the  esprit  de  corps  of  the  movement.  We  were  able  thus 
to  hold  together  and  work  as  one  man  when  the  strain 
and  stress  of  a  great  emergency  came  upon  us. 

Perhaps,  too,  it  simplified  matters  when  the  ingather- 
ing came  that  we  could  baptize  the  ten  thousand  converts 
into  the  Ongole  Church.  If  at  that  time  there  had  been 
a  number  of  self-sustaining  churches  over  my  field,  I 
doubt  whether  I  could  have  handled  the  situation.  The 
firm  grip  which  the  preachers  and  I  had  on  it  would  have 
weakened ;  there  would  have  been  a  splitting  up  of  inter- 
ests. Perhaps,  from  that  point  of  view,  it  was  necessary 
that  the  organizing  of  churches  should  suffer  in  order 
that  the  movement  might  prosper. 

One  drawback  was  that  the  preachers  had  before  them 
no  pattern  of  a  self-governing,  self-supporting  church. 
They  watched  me  narrowly  in  all  my  dealings  in  the 
Ongole  Baptist  Church  as  its  pastor,  and  they  copied  me. 
But  I  also  had  the  supervision  of  the  whole  field.  It  was 
not  possible  always  to  keep  the  two  offices  distinct.  The 


EASTERN    PEOPLE   AND  WESTERN    ORGANIZATION      343 

ideas  of  the  preachers  about  the  functions  of  a  pastor 
must  thereby  have  become  confused  at  some  points. 

In  my  whole  attempt  to  organize  Baptist  churches 
among  the  Madigas  the  feature  which  I  can  pronounce  an 
unqualified  success  was  the  village  elder  turned  into  a 
Baptist  deacon.  Whenever  in  a  Madiga  village  one  or 
more  of  the  headmen  were  converted  I  considered  the 
battle  half  won.  I  only  needed  to  utilize  their  position 
in  the  community,  and  bring  it  into  service  for  the  Lord 
Jesus  and  keep  it  there,  and  I  had  their  customs,  handed 
down  from  time  immemorial,  to  help  us.  I  always  leaned 
on  these  headmen,  and  held  as  closely  to  their  own  ideas 
as  I  could  consistently.  To  force  a  lot  of  Western  ideas 
upon  such  a  converted  village  elder  was  not  to  my  mind 
good  policy.  I  let  him  stay  in  his  groove,  and  let  him 
learn  in  his  own  way  how  to  lead  a  Christian  life  and 
help  others  to  do  the  same. 

The  next  step  was  that  all  the  five  headmen  of  a 
Madiga  village  were  converted,  and  thus  the  village 
council  which  they  formed — the  panchayat — became 
Christianized  as  a  matter  of  course.  There  I  saw  my 
opportunity ;  for  along  this  line  I  could  introduce  church 
organization  according  to  strictly  Indian  customs  and 
ideas.  I  wanted  to  become  a  lawyer  and  politician  in  my 
early  life.  It  must  be  that  with  my  latent  capacity  in 
that  direction  I  promptly  seized  upon  the  crude  legal 
aspects  of  the  Madiga  village,  and  created  out  of  them 
new  conditions,  giving  the  people  the  Christian  ethical 
code,  and  teaching  them  to  love  and  serve  the  Lord 
Jesus. 

The  duties  of  the  village  panchayat  were  easily  ad- 
justed to  the  new  Christian  communal  life.  Those  five 
village  elders,  in  the  old  days,  had  to  see  to  the  upkeep 
of  the  village  worship ;  they  could  levy  fines  for  light  of- 
fenses; it  was  in  their  power  to  expel  a  man  from  the 


344  SOCIAL    CHRISTIANITY    IN    THE    ORIENT 

community  for  a  grave  offense.  A  stranger  coming  to 
the  village  went  to  the  headmen,  and  in  cases  of  distress 
they  had  to  find  means  of  relief.  Often  the  panchayat 
was  as  depraved  as  the  men  who  composed  it;  yet  here 
was  a  system  of  self-government  that  only  needed  to  be 
utilized  for  Christian  propaganda.  I  was  not  slow  to  do 
this. 

All  through  the  years  I  had  had  my  eye  on  the  compe- 
tent village  elders.  I  put  them  to  work  and  called  them 
my  "helpers"  and  let  them  know  that  I  leaned  on  them. 
They  formed  a  large  unpaid  staff  of  mission  workers,  an 
organic  part  of  the  whole,  working  hand  in  hand  with 
the  preachers  and  forming  the  solid  foundation  of  the 
structure.  And  now,  after  the  ingathering,  these  men 
began  to  come  to  the  front.  They  wanted  recognition. 
If  the  preachers  were  to  be  ordained,  the  centers  of 
Christian  activity  to  be  organized  as  churches,  then  where 
were  they  to  come  in?  Under  the  old  order  they  had 
been  content  and  asked  for  nothing.  Under  the  new 
order  they  wanted  their  names  put  down  on  some  list, 
to  show  they  had  not  been  left  out. 

My  diary  contains  the  first  mention  of  those  six  months 
after  the  ingathering.  By  the  end  of  1879  there  were 
thirty  on  the  list,  by  the  end  of  1880  the  number  had 
grown  to  two  hundred  and  thirty.  At  the  quarterly  meet- 
ing in  October,  1880,  this  movement  of  deacons  came 
upon  us  in  a  way  to  perplex  us.  I  knew  that  a  large 
number  of  them  had  come  to  Ongole.  I  agreed  to  meet 
them  and  hear  their  requests  and  deliberate  with  them 
after  the  work  of  setting  apart  the  twenty-six  churches 
had  been  accomplished.  When  the  time  came  Dr.  Boggs 
and  I  were  overwhelmed  by  the  number  and  the  persis- 
tency of  the  applicants.  I  knew  many  of  them  per- 
sonally. I  had  been  in  their  villages,  and  knew  that,  for 
Madigas,  they  were  men  of  means.  If,  then,  the  small 


EASTERN    PEOPLE   AND   WESTERN   ORGANIZATION     345 

allowance  for  which  they  asked  did  not  form  a  motive, 
what  actuated  them? 

I  called  a  council  of  the  oldest  and  most  reliable  preach- 
ers and  asked  them  the  meaning  of  this  movement  of 
village  elders.  They  made  themselves  spokesmen  for  the 
elders,  and  told  me  they  had  encouraged  them  to  come; 
for  they  feared  that  under  the  new  order  of  things  they 
might  become  discouraged  and  cease  to  be  the  pillars  of 
support  which  they  had  been  in  the  past.  I  asked  what 
would  be  done  if  I  withheld  the  allowance  which  these 
men  wanted.  The  preachers  replied  without  hesitation 
that  it  would  make  no  difference.  They  reminded  me, 
however,  that  if  the  elders  received  half  a  rupee — fifteen 
cents — way  allowance,  when  coming  to  the  quarterly 
meeting,  and  the  same  when  they  returned  home,  that 
all  the  village  people  would  see  thereby  that  their  going 
to  Ongole  was  not  idle  pastime,  but  that  they  were  really 
needed  there  as  representatives  of  the  Christian  villages. 
They  also  pointed  out  to  me  that  if  they  were  given  a 
cloth  twice  a  year  costing  very  little,  with  the  rest  of  the 
staff  of  workers,  it  would  be  in  accordance  with  the  cus- 
tom of  the  country.  The  Sudra  master,  when  he  wants 
the  Madiga  to  know  that  he  is  his  man,  gives  him  a  cloth. 
If  the  elders  were  thus  recognized  by  the  mission  it 
would  be  evidence  to  everyone  that  they  were  acceptable 
servants  to  the  mission,  and  their  word  would  be  re- 
spected. I  knew  that  the  preachers  were  right  about  this. 

This  movement  of  the  village  elders  was  very  signifi- 
cant. They  had  been  a  contented,  capable  force  of  work- 
ers during  all  the  years.  Only  the  most  prominent  among 
them  were  now  asking  recognition.  There  were  hun- 
dreds of  them  on  the  field.  No  one  had  questioned  their 
position  and  it  was  without  pay.  Now  this  was  all  upset 
by  our  attempt  to  introduce  church  organization,  which, 
though  not  far-reaching,  was  yet  a  blow  at  the  old  order 


34-6  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN   THE   ORIENT 

of  things.  A  sort  of  rebellion  broke  out  among  them. 
If  their  old  rights  were  to  suffer  interference,  they 
wanted  new  rights.  The  preachers  feared  the  disorgani- 
zation of  all  their  work  if  these  rights  were  not  granted. 
I  now  understood  the  situation,  and  tried  to  meet  the 
emergency.  It  was  another  instance  of  how  the  move- 
ment among  the  Madigas  forced  methods  upon  me 
which  I  could  not  easily  explain  to  those  who  came  after 
me.  For  some  years  thereafter  we  had  a  long  list  of 
"helpers."  They  were  the  really  self-supporting  force  of 
the  mission.  It  was  only  after  the  mission  became  more 
and  more  organized  that  their  services  were  no  longer 
considered  essential.  Their  names  were  then  gradually 
taken  off  the  list  of  workers. 

I  have  been  asked  to  state  at  the  close  of  this  chapter 
what  I  now  think  of  that  whole  attempt  at  church  or- 
ganization. It  is  possible  for  me  to  say  in  the  retrospect 
what  I  would  not  have  cared  to  say  thirty  years  ago.  At 
that  time  the  whole  trend  of  opinion  in  the  Christian 
world  would  have  been  against  me.  But  now  I  say  with- 
out hesitation:  The  Western  forms  of  Christianity  are 
not  necessarily  adapted  to  an  Eastern  community.  There 
were  years  when  I  tried  to  lead  the  people  toward  West- 
ern organization;  for  I  wanted  them  to  grow  into  it.  I 
even  tried,  since  pressure  was  being  brought  to  bear  upon 
me  from  outside,  to  force  it  upon  them.  I  was  only  par- 
tially successful.  In  so  far  as  I  could  make  use  of  the 
primitive  self-administration  of  the  Indian  village  com- 
munity, in  so  far  did  I  succeed. 

I  am  glad,  as  I  look  back,  that  my  efforts  were  mostly 
in  the  direction  of  preaching  Jesus  in  a  way  which  ap- 
pealed to  the  oriental  mind,  and  that  I  gave  to  church  or- 
ganization, according  to  Western  ideas,  a  secondary  place. 
It  seems  to  me  I  was  in  line  with  the  New  Testament 
church,  and  that  God  was  guiding  and  helping  me. 


XX 

SELF-SUPPORT  IN   PRACTICE 

I  WAS  waiting  for  reenforcement  from  America.  Six 
months  after  the  ingathering  Dr.  Boggs  had  come  out  to 
help  me.  He  had  been  associated  with  me  for  two  years, 
and  had  borne  with  me  the  heavy  cares  of  those  years. 
Then  he  was  called  to  the  theological  seminary  at  Rama- 
patnam  during  the  temporary  absence  of  Dr.  Williams. 
The  claim  of  the  200  students  in  that  institution  was 
recognized  by  us  all.  It  was  taken  for  granted  that 
I  could  somehow  hold  the  fort  alone. 

I  had  been  asked  repeatedly  to  write  a  book  about  the 
Telugu  revival.  The  people  at  home  wanted  something 
that  would  bring  them  into  close  touch  with  this  move- 
ment. They  had  had  nothing  but  missionary  reports  thus 
far.  I  saw  that  a  story  from  real  life  was  wanted.  The 
only  time  which  I  could  spare  for  such  work  was  the  hot 
season,  when  the  heat  kept  everyone  at  home.  Accord- 
ingly, when,  in  the  summer  of  1881,  the  hot  winds  began 
to  blow,  my  time  for  writing  had  come.  The  bungalow 
was  cooled  by  mats  of  fragrant  roots,  kept  moist  all  day 
by  a  coolie  who  continuously  poured  water  over  them. 
The  punkahs  were  swinging  overhead.  The  hero  and 
heroine  and  other  leading  characters  in  the  story  were 
now  at  Ongole,  always  within  call,  ready  to  tell  me  not 
only  their  own  experiences,  but  also  the  customs  and  cere- 
monies pertaining  to  life  in  the  Indian  village. 

347 


348  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN   THE   ORIENT 

I  wrote  many  hours  each  day.  My  book  was  finished 
in  six  weeks.  I  gave  it  the  title  "From  Darkness  to 
Light."  The  sale  was  said  to  be  remarkable  for  a  mis- 
sionary book.  I  enjoyed  this  work.  When  it  was  done 
I  felt  tempted  to  go  on  using  my  pen  and  spin  out  another 
story.  But  scarcely  was  my  conclusion  written  when  a 
quarterly  meeting  came  upon  me.  After  that  was  over 
my  diary  for  the  first  time  records  symptoms  of  over- 
work: "Tired  out,  nerves  unstrung,  and  feel  so  weak 
that  I  can  hardly  walk  and  cannot  eat." 

Again  several  months  passed  by  in  waiting.  My  diary 
has  entries  about  urgent  appeals  sent  home  for  reenforce- 
ment.  Now  and  then  there  is  a  hint  of  deep  discourage- 
ment, because  there  was  no  one  in  sight  to  relieve  me. 
This  could  not  go  on  indefinitely.  Since  my  last  return 
from  furlough,  early  in  1874,  I  had  been  at  my  post 
without  a  break  except  the  three  months  when  I  took  my 
family  as  far  as  England  on  their  way  home.  The  let- 
ters from  Mrs.  Clough  and  the  children  were  full  of 
disappointment  over  the  prolonged  absence.  At  last,  in 
October,  1881,  we  heard  that  two  new  men  were  to  sail 
in  a  few  days,  and  four  were  to  follow  soon  after.  Two 
of  our  older  missionaries  were  returning  from  furlough. 
Of  these  eight  men,  four  were  to  take  portions  of  the  On- 
gole  field.  The  other  three  were  to  fill  vacancies  in  other 
stations  of  the  mission.  We  all  took  courage. 

The  new  men  came,  and  began  their  work  by  learning 
the  Telugu  language.  I  took  them  out  on  tour  with  me, 
and  let  them  see  the  field,  and  become  acquainted  with 
my  methods.  The  Ongole  field  had  covered  ten  taluks. 
The  four  that  were  farthest  from  Ongole  were  now  to 
be  made  separate  mission  stations.  They  were  Cumbum, 
Bapatla,  Vinukonda  and  Narsaravupet.  The  Ongole 
church  voted  to  give  letters  of  dismissal  to  the  members 
living  in  those  four  taluks.  We  could  not  give  a  letter 


SELF-SUPPORT   IN    PRACTICE  349 

to  each  of  the  8,000  members  whom  we  thus  dismissed. 
We  dealt  with  large  groups.  The  parent  church  had 
14,000  members  left.  All  the  workers  belonging  to 
each  taluk  went  with  their  new  missionaries.  Some  of 
the  strongest  of  our  preachers  were  working  at  the 
outposts.  I  did  not  like  to  let  them  go,  but,  on  the  other 
hand,  I  was  glad  they  were  there  to  help  carry  forward 
the  work  under  changed  conditions. 

I  now  felt  that  since  the  most  necessary  provision  had 
been  made  I  could  leave  my  work  for  a  time.  I  sailed 
for  America  toward  the  end  of  1883.  During  this  fur- 
lough at  home  I  traveled  much,  and  told  the  story  of  the 
Telugu  revival  in  many  churches  to  large  audiences.  I 
collected  money  for  mission  property,  and  turned  the  at- 
tention of  many  people  in  the  direction  of  our  Telugu 
Mission.  My  furlough  was  cut  short  somewhat  by  the 
serious  illness  and  death  of  the  missionary  and  his  wife 
whom  I  had  left  in  charge  at  Ongole,  caring  for  the  work 
there.  My  presence  was  required.  I  returned  to  India  in 
the  fall  of  1884. 

The  men  who  had  taken  portions  o£  the  old  Ongole 
field  and  made  them  independent  stations  had  found  their 
bearings  and  had  looked  over  their  resources.  One  of 
them  reported :  "The  great  revival  is  still  going  on.  We 
have  no  trouble  in  getting  converts ;  the  only  trouble  is  to 
train  them."  Another  wrote :  "I  have  no  fear  about  the 
future  ingathering  of  converts.  That  work  has  gained 
such  an  impetus  that  it  will  go  on  independently  of  the 
missionary.  The  urgent,  pressing  need  is  for  more  pas- 
toral care,  more  biblical  instruction,  and  more  Christian 
primary  education  for  the  children." 

Those  who  had  pushed  their  outposts  toward  the  north 
encountered  "the  Ongole  wave"  of  revival  in  parts  of  the 
Telugu  country  remote  from  Ongole.  A  missionary  who 
settled  in  a  hard,  new  field  south  of  us  reported  that  for 


35°  SOCIAL    CHRISTIANITY    IN    THE   ORIENT 

forty  miles  in  three  directions  from  his  station  not  a 
Christian  was  to  be  found  anywhere.  In  the  fourth  di- 
rection, as  he  approached  the  confines  of  the  Ongole  field, 
there  were  whole  villages  of  Christians.  So  far  as  the 
movement  toward  Christianity  was  concerned  it  was 
going  ahead;  there  was  no  sign  of  any  decrease  in  its 
inherent  force.  But  the  training  of  the  converts,  which 
was  already  so  serious  a  question,  was  rendered  still  more 
serious  by  the  lack  of  means  with  which  to  forge  ahead. 

It  was  during  those  years  that  great  prominence  began 
to  be  given  to  the  question  of  self-support  in  foreign 
missions.  Most  of  the  missionary  societies  were  facing 
serious  deficits  at  the  close  of  every  financial  year.  The 
demands  of  the  mission  fields  were  increasing.  Students 
of  missions  who  were  in  close  touch  with  the  problems  of 
the  situation  pointed  to  the  necessity  of  making  the  native 
churches  self-sustaining,  and  thought  they  had  herein 
found  the  solution  of  the  whole  difficulty.  The  attempts 
of  the  missionary  boards  to  bring  this  about  by  stringent 
measures  fell  as  a  deadweight  upon  their  missionaries. 

We  men  out  on  the  foreign  field  had  taken  our  own 
course  of  development,  and  the  results  were  now  being 
scrutinized.  We  had  cultivated  new  ground.  As  a  mat- 
ter of  course,  we  could  not  carry  the  religion  of  Jesus 
Christ  to  non-Christian  races,  unaccompanied  by  the 
philanthropic  activities  which  are  a  part  of  it.  We  white 
men  became  the  friends  of  those  who  needed  us ;  we  edu- 
cated their  children;  we  built  hospitals  for  the  sick;  we 
saved  them  from  death  when  starving.  We  did  it  mostly 
with  foreign  money;  our  spiritual  instruction  and  our 
deeds  of  benevolence  went  hand  in  hand.  In  doing  this 
were  we  on  the  wrong  track?  Did  we  fail  to  foster  a 
hardy,  self-reliant  growth  in  our  converts?  Was  the 
Christian  community  in  Asia  being  pauperized  by  means 
of  money  given  by  the  home  churches? 


SELF-SUPPORT   IN    PRACTICE  351 

During  all  the  years  since  then  this  question  has  been 
discussed  by  the  younger  men.  We  pioneers  undoubtedly 
have  passed  serious  problems  on  to  them.  Perhaps  they 
are  right  in  feeling  that  if  we  had  laid  the  foundations 
differently;  if  we  had  insisted  on  self-help  among  the 
native  Christians  from  the  beginning,  the  burdens  of  our 
successors  would  be  less  heavy.  I  know  that  I  am  one  of 
the  men  of  the  old  days  who  was  called  "a  father  of  the 
poor."  It  seems  to  me,  in  the  light  of  my  experience, 
that  if  I  stood  again  at  the  beginning  of  the  work  in 
Ongole,  I  should  take  the  same  course  right  over  again. 
It  was  not  possible  in  the  early  days  of  the  movement  to 
foresee  any  undesirable  consequences  in  my  policy  of 
helping  the  people.  There  was  so  much  love  and  Chris- 
tian spirit  abroad  among  our  early  Christians  that  very 
little  of  a  grasping  disposition  appeared  on  the  surface. 
Later  on,  I  must  admit,  this  appeared  more  and  more. 
I  worked  hard  then  to  suppress  it,  but  not  always  and  in 
every  direction  with  success. 

There  were  some  things  which  I  could  not  do,  and 
which  no  amount  of  outside  pressure  could  make  me  do. 
One  of  these  was  to  preach  to  a  crowd  of  hungry  people. 
If  the  people  of  a  village  came  to  hear  me,  and  I  knew  by 
their  looks,  as  they  stood  or  sat  before  me,  that  they  had 
not  had  a  square  meal  for  days  and  weeks,  I  found  I 
could  not  talk  to  them  about  the  love  of  Jesus  for  them. 
I  sent  them  off  with  a  few  coins  first  and  told  them  to 
eat  and  then  come  back  and  hear  my  message.  Some- 
times younger  missionaries  remonstrated  with  me.  They 
said  I  was  making  paupers  of  the  people.  To  such  I  said, 
"Were  you  ever  hungry,  brother?  Well,  these  people 
are  hungry,  and  I  know  what  it  means  to  be  hungry,  and 
I  am  not  going  to  let  these  people  suffer  if  I  can  help  it." 
If  I  went  too  far  in  this  I  cannot  say  that  I  now  regret 


SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY  IN   THE   ORIENT 

it.  I  was  only  obeying  the  command,  "Be  ye  merciful, 
even  as  your  Father  in  heaven  is  merciful." 

This  might  have  been  less  pronounced  in  me  if  I  had 
not  endured  poverty  during  our  pioneering  days  in  Amer- 
ica. It  was  hard  schooling  when,  as  a  boy,  during 
a  winter  on  the  western  prairies,  my  mother  had  nothing 
to  give  me  to  eat  but  porridge  and  potatoes,  and  not 
enough  of  that.  I  never  forgot  how  it  felt.  It  became 
second  nature  to  me  to  put  a  coin  into  a  hungry  man's 
hand  and  tell  him  to  go  and  get  something  to  eat.  When 
whole  villages  of  people  came  to  me  sometimes  and  com- 
plained that  they  had  only  porridge  to  eat,  one  meal  a 
day,  I  used  to  say  to  them:  "You  cannot  tell  me  any- 
thing about  poverty.  I,  too,  have  lived  by  the  week  on 
little  else  than  corn  meal  mush."  They  knew  then  that 
they  were  understood. 

From  the  beginning  we  had  certain  rules  concerning 
definite  acts  of  self-help  which  by  common  consent  we 
felt  bound  to  require  from  groups  of  believers.  One  of 
these  was  that  if  the  Christians  of  a  village  wanted  a 
schoolhouse,  generally  of  mud  walls  and  thatch  roof, 
they  must  carry  part  of  the  outlay.  But  when  I  knew 
that  many  of  them  lived  in  huts  which  they  could  only 
with  difficulty  keep  from  tumbling  to  pieces  over  their 
heads,  it  went  against  my  grain  to  enforce  that  rule. 
Then  there  was  the  question  of  supporting  a  teacher  for 
their  schools.  The  people  often  stinted  themselves  in 
order  to  do  it.  Those  Madiga  parents,  like  parents  the 
world  over,  lived  in  their  children.  To  see  them  learn 
to  read  was  a  satisfaction  for  which  they  were  willing 
to  deny  themselves  till  it  hurt.  But  there  was  pressure 
from  several  directions.  The  Sudra  landowners,  who 
employed  the  Madiga  families,  expected  the  children  to 
come  to  work,  at  least  to  tend  the  buffaloes  and  sheep. 


SELF-SUPPORT   IN    PRACTICE  353 

If  they  went  to  school  the  portion  of  grain  given  the 
family  was  less  in  proportion. 

When  I  saw  bright  children  out  in  the  villages,  and 
urged  the  parents  to  send  them  to  school,  I  was  often 
met  with  the  cry,  "Then  we,  and  they,  too,  must  go 
hungry."  By  means  of  emphasis  they  slapped  their 
wasted  bodies  to  show  me  how  thin  a  covering  of  flesh 
they  had  over  their  bones.  When  I  was  a  boy  in  the 
newly  settled  West  I  had  known  families  to  deprive 
themselves  almost  of  the  necessaries  of  life  in  order  to 
educate  their  children.  But  never  had  I  seen  them  come 
so  close  to  hunger  as  here  among  these  Madigas,  down- 
trodden for  centuries.  Over  in  Christian  America  there 
was  abundance  of  money.  Was  it  wrong  to  apply  it  to 
these  people  when  they  wanted  to  see  their  children  take 
the  first  step  out  of  degradation  and  ignorance? 

In  these  questions  I  fell  back  upon  the  training  which 
I  received  in  my  youth  and  early  manhood  on  what  was 
then  the  frontier  of  American  civilization.  I  had  seen 
how  money  was  poured  in  from  the  Eastern  states  to 
plant  and  endow  educational  institutions,  to  help  students 
who  needed  help,  to  subsidize  struggling  churches.  No 
one  had  taught  us  that  money  was  bad.  True,  Ameri- 
cans were  there  helping  Americans.  The  contention  was 
that  Asiatics  should  help  Asiatics.  But  I  felt  that  this 
was  not  just;  for  I  believed  that  when  an  American  mis- 
sionary society  sent  their  messengers  to  a  foreign  land 
with  tidings  of  salvation,  and  they  were  received  by  the 
people,  then  that  society  was  under  moral  obligation  to 
furnish  the  means  to  enable  Asiatic  people  to  take  the 
first  steps  out  of  the  old  life  into  the  new  life.  I  knew 
how  abundant  the  financial  resources  of  Americans  were, 
and  I  had  seen  when  on  furlough  how  willing  they  were 
to  give.  To  me  the  agitation  concerning  self-support, 
at  that  time,  seemed  a  violation  of  an  unwritten  contract 


354         SOCIAL  CHRISTIANITY  IN  THE  ORIENT 

between  the  missionary  societies  and  the  Asiatic  people 
whom  they  had  drawn  under  their  influence  and  fur- 
nished with  desires  toward  a  code  of  life  that  included 
education  and  social  betterment. 

There  was  a  wide  difference  between  the  thrifty,  re- 
sourceful American  pioneers  among  whom  I  grew  up  and 
my  downtrodden  Madigas.  Their  poverty  pressed  me 
sorely.  I  chafed  under  it  often ;  for  I  had  to  reckon  with 
it  ceaselessly.  I  was  too  loyal  to  the  Madigas  to  say  it, 
but  if  God  had  sent  me  the  Sudras,  how  different  it 
would  have  been!  Then  I  could  have  left  behind  me  a 
self-supporting  Christian  community.  The  methods  of 
self-help  which  were  a  partial  success  with  the  Madigas 
would  have  been  a  complete  success  with  the  Sudras. 
This  was  evidently  not  to  be.  The  missionaries  who 
came  after  me,  too,  had  to  face  the  poverty  of  the  Madi- 
gas, and  make  up  their  minds  that  here  was  something 
that  could  knock  over  any  scheme  of  self-help  which  they 
might  try,  no  matter  how  patiently.  Often  at  confer- 
ences I  listened  to  their  discussions,  and  when  my  turn 
came  to  speak  I  exclaimed,  "Brethren,  you  cannot  squeeze 
blood  out  of  a  turnip!"  It  was  a  homely  phrase,  but  it 
covered  the  ground  and  expressed  my  meaning. 

Our  society,  like  most  other  missionary  societies,  was 
under  pressure  during  those  years  in  the  direction  of 
making  it  binding  upon  their  missionaries  to  train  the 
native  Christians  to  self-help.  Committees  were  set  to 
work  to  ascertain  the  point  which  had  been  reached  in 
this  respect.  We  on  the  field  received  circulars  asking 
us  to  state  definitely  what  the  churches  in  our  care  were 
doing  in  carrying  their  expenses.  To  an  American  com- 
mittee, accustomed  to  looking  upon  money  as  the  medium 
of  exchange,  it  must  have  seemed  no  answer  at  all,  when 
we  tried  to  tell  them  of  Asiatic  ways  of  payment  in  kind. 
I  never  tried  my  hand  at  figuring  it  out  on  paper;  it 


SELF-SUPPORT   IN    PRACTICE  355 

could  not  be  done.  I  would  have  had  to  go  into  long  ex- 
planations about  the  cooperative  system  of  the  Indian 
village  community,  with  which  American  business  men 
would  not  have  wished  to  consume  their  time.  Suppose 
the  Sudra  master,  at  harvest  time,  gave  the  Madiga  a 
portion  of  grain  in  return  for  the  labor  of  a  season,  and 
he  passed  some  of  this  over  to  his  preacher,  or  teacher, 
how  was  it  to  be  expected  that  the  record  of  this  trans- 
action, repeated  hundreds  of  times  over  the  field,  was  to 
reach  me,  and  reach  me  in  a  form  useful  for  the  making 
up  of  statistical  tables?  Moreover,  I  had  some  doubts 
about  insisting  upon  computing  how  much  each  one  gave. 
I  liked  their  Indian  way  of  giving,  and  did  not  believe  in 
scrutinizing  it  too  closely. 

My  supply  of  funds  from  headquarters  was  cut  down 
in  1885 ;  cut  down  so  that  we  all  felt  it.  The  Woman's 
Baptist  Foreign  Missionary  Society  of  the  West,  which 
had  been  furnishing  funds  year  after  year  for  the  edu- 
cation of  our  girls  and  women,  was  also  compelled  to  cut 
down  supplies.  It  was  a  trying  time  to  those  who  were 
bearing  the  burdens  at  home,  as  well  as  to  us.  They  were 
expected  to  answer  questions  which  they  had  not  the  in- 
formation to  answer.  It  took  a  knowledge  of  the  way 
in  which  the  people  of  the  East  live  in  order  to  determine 
whether  the  Christians  were  rising  to  a  manly  condition 
of  self-help,  or  whether  they  were  weakening  under  a 
system  of  foreign  beneficence. 

I  began  now  to  talk  this  over  with  the  older  preachers. 
Rumor  had  reached  them  through  their  friends  in  other 
stations  of  our  Telugu  Mission  that  their  missionaries 
were  in  similar  straits :  they  all  had  received  an  order 
from  America  to  cut  down  the  support  given  to  their 
workers.  In  some  of  these  stations  monthly  salaries 
were  given  by  the  missionaries.  To  cut  these  down 
meant  hardships  to  the  workers,  and  in  some  cases  dis- 


356  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN   THE   ORIENT 

missal  for  lack  of  funds.  In  this  emergency  our  system 
at  Ongole,  of  giving-  a  quarterly  subsidy,  seemed  to  lend 
itself  to  a  spirit  of  independence.  Our  workers  felt  that 
they  could  rise  above  this  situation  and  relieve  the  mis- 
sion of  their  support,  since  they  had  not,  at  any  time, 
depended  solely  upon  the  mission. 

What  is  called  the  Ongole  method  of  self-support  was 
evolved  through  stress  of  circumstances,  and  was  there- 
fore adapted  to  the  condition  of  the  people.  At  the  be- 
ginning of  my  work  in  Ongole,  Yerraguntla  Periah  gave 
me  the  hints  which  I  elaborated.  He  did  not  want  sal- 
ary. If  I  had  let  him  continue  in  the  methods  of  the 
Indian  religious  teacher  he  would  have  taken  care  of 
himself.  When  I  asked  him  to  enter  upon  Christian 
propaganda,  introducing  American  methods  such  as  com- 
ing to  Ongole  at  stated  intervals  to  confer  with  me,  he 
convinced  me  that  this  called  for  a  subsidy  of  American 
money.  This  method  justified  itself  abundantly ;  for  the 
staff  of  workers  on  the  field  soon  increased  with  such 
rapidity  that  if  I  had  begun  on  the  salary  system  I  could 
not  have  carried  it  forward  even  before  the  ingathering, 
much  less  afterwards. 

The  Ongole  method  of  self-support  is  an  organic 
part  of  the  Ongole  method  of  employing  large  native 
agency.  The  missionaries  who  have  taken  over  the  ten 
stations  into  which,  in  the  course  of  years,  the  Ongole 
field  was  divided  have,  in  most  cases,  seen  no  reason  to 
depart  from  this  method.  It  is  said  that  missions  of 
other  societies,  in  their  formative  period,  have  taken  note 
of  our  way  of  doing.  It  is  a  contribution  not  only  from 
the  theoretical  point  of  view,  but  as  something  which  has 
stood  the  test  of  practice. 

At  that  time,  in  1885,  the  preachers  felt  that  it  would 
not  require  great  self-denial  if  they  were  to  cut  loose 
from  the  financial  support  of  the  mission.  We  held  a 


SELF-SUPPORT   IN    PRACTICE  357 

meeting  and  gave  the  older  workers  an  opportunity  to 
speak  their  minds.  Very  frank,  straightforward  words 
some  of  them  spoke.  They  said : 

"If  the  American  Christians  think  we  have  been  children 
long  enough  and  now  must  show  how  we  can  stand  by  our- 
selves, very  well,  we  will  try  it.  They  have  sent  us  a  new 
religion,  and  have  shown  us  a  new  way  to  live.  For  this  we 
must  be  thankful  to  them.  The  mission  is  now  giving  us 
very  little.  We  are  willing  to  work  without  it.  Our  mem- 
bers would  support  us,  if  the  crops  were  always  good.  But 
when  they  and  their  children  have  not  enough  to  eat,  how 
can  they  give  to  us  ?  Therefore,  the  only  way  for  us  to  do 
is  to  eat  of  the  labor  of  our  hands.  Some  of  us  already 
own  a  little  field  and  a  buffalo  or  two.  Our  wives  and 
children  thus  have  something  to  depend  upon  when  other 
supplies  fail  us.  Let  us  work  harder  with  our  hands,  and 
we  can  nevertheless  go  about  preaching  and  ask  nothing 
from  the  mission." 

I  had  to  take  them  at  their  word,  and  I  did  it  with 
great  misgivings.  It  was  the  method  of  the  Apostle  Paul, 
yet  he  distinctly  did  not  advocate  this  method  for  anyone 
else.  I  knew  that  only  our  most  capable  workers  could 
make  this  a  success.  I  feared  that  by  gaining  a  point 
in  self-support  we  might  lose  several  points  in  the  evan- 
gelistic work  of  the  field.  It  was  at  best  an  experiment. 
I  was  glad  when  the  way  opened  to  me  so  that  the  work- 
ers could  go  back  to  the  old  order  of  things. 

With  this  question  of  self-support  ever  pressing  upon 
us,  a  crisis  was  now  coming  upon  our  Telugu  Mission. 
The  force  of  missionaries  for  the  past  few  years 
had  been  only  barely  sufficient  for  the  needs  of  the 
field.  We  now  had  thirteen  stations.  The  Ongole  sta- 
tion still  had  about  15,000  Christians  connected  with  it — 
surely  a  sufficient  load,  but  I  had  seen  heavier  loads  and 


358  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN   THE   ORIENT 

did  not  complain.  My  field  was  now  shut  in,  bounded  on 
the  north,  west  and  south  by  other  stations  of  our  mis- 
sion. I  could  not  extend  my  outposts,  but  I  worked  hard 
within  my  borders. 

The  year  1886  marked  an  almost  wholesale  depletion 
of  our  ranks,  as  missionaries,  leaving  only  about  one 
half  of  our  number  on  the  field.  Early  in  the  year  Dr. 
and  Mrs.  Jewett  left  India,  both  in  very  feeble  health. 
They  did  not  return,  and  thus  one  pillar  of  strength  was 
removed.  Dr.  Jewett  died  in  1897.  "With  eyes  uplifted 
toward  heaven  he  beckoned  with  a  familiar  oriental  ges- 
ture, and  said,  'Come,  Lord  Jesus.'  Then  in  a  moment 
he  exclaimed  with  rapture,  'Jesus  is  coming.'  After  this 
he  knew  no  more  of  earth." 

Dr.  Williams  had  to  go  home  with  his  family,  which 
meant  that  another  of  my  old  comrades  was  gone.  Two 
of  the  new  stations  established  in  the  outlying  taluks  of 
the  old  Ongole  field  lost  their  missionaries  through 
breakdown  of  health.  One  station  came  back  to  me  for 
one  year,  the  other  for  five  years.  The  Hindus  spread  a 
report  over  those  two  fields  that  their  gods  had  driven 
away  two  missionaries  and  the  Americans  were  not  go- 
ing to  send  any  more  to  either  place.  I  met  this  cry  by 
stationing  a  Eurasian  evangelist  in  one  of  those  stations. 
The  high  school  was  transferred  to  me,  and  for  five  years 
it  was  without  an  American  principal.  I  had  to  do  the 
best  I  could  to  keep  it  going.  I  was  made  the  burden 
bearer  of  the  mission.  Those  were  hard,  grinding  years. 
Work,  work  from  morning  till  night.  I  called  myself  the 
head  coolie  of  the  district. 

When  I  realized  that  there  was  no  immediate  prospect 
of  help  from  America  I  looked  about  me  in  India.  Our 
boarding  schools  in  Ongole  were  in  the  care  of  Eurasian 
ladies.  I  already  had  a  Eurasian  assistant  stationed  at 
the  outposts.  I  now  engaged  another  assistant  to  help 


SELF-SUPPORT   IN    PRACTICE  359 

me  at  Ongole,  by  being  a  kind  of  right-hand  man.  It 
worked  well.  During  two  and  a  half  years  I  leaned  a 
good  deal  on  him,  as  he  took  more  and  more  of  the  de- 
tail of  the  work  off  my  hands.  Death  took  him  away. 
He  said  good-bye  to  me  one  morning  to  go  on  tour ;  he 
never  went.  Before  he  could  start,  typhoid  fever  laid 
him  low,  and  twelve  days  later  he  was  gone.  To  every- 
one who  came  to  the  bungalow  and  spoke  his  feelings  by 
asking,  "Why  has  God  done  this?" — my  one  reply  was, 
"Jesus  makes  no  mistakes." 

A  year  before  this  my  physical  strength  had  given 
way  to  the  strain.  By  the  blessing  of  God  my  excellent 
constitution  had  thus  far  been  equal  to  the  constant  heavy 
work  and  care,  without  let-up.  But  now  a  break  had 
come.  Ill  health  was  on  me,  and  now  indeed  I  was  stag- 
gering at  my  post.  It  came  through  a  tour  into  the 
Darsi  taluk.  I  knew  that  my  presence  was  needed  in 
Ongole,  and  did  not  linger  long  anywhere.  But  it 
was  a  good  tour,  and  I  felt  that  I  had  never  worked 
harder  in  touring  in  my  life  than  during  those  fifteen 
days.  I  baptized  420.  This  done,  I  started  for 
home,  and  as  I  was  nearing  Ongole  I  had  to  ride  the 
last  miles  very  slowly,  because  my  pony  had  walked  all, 
the  shoes  off  his  feet,  except  the  half  of  one,  and  his  feet 
were  sore.  The  slow  riding  meant  long  exposure  to 
the  sun.  Already  worn  with  overwork,  it  was  too  much 
for  me.  A  slight  sunstroke  was  the  result.  Dizzy  at- 
tacks now  became  the  order  of  the  day  whenever  I 
worked  a  little  beyond  my  strength.  My  physical  elas- 
ticity was  gone  and  my  resources  grew  less  and  less. 
Afterwards  an  eminent  surgeon  in  America  said  I  must 
have  burst  a  blood  vessel  in  the  brain  during  that  tour, 
and  that  it  was  a  wonder  I  survived  at  all.  Yet  it  was 
not  till  two  years  from  that  time  that  I  was  released  and 
could  go  on  furlough. 


360  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN   THE   ORIENT 

What  was  against  me  now  in  my  broken-down  condi- 
tion was  the  inability  of  the  people  to  grasp  the  fact  that 
the  one  on  whom  they  had  been  laying  their  burdens  for 
many  a  year  was  now  scarcely  able  to  bear  his  own. 
They  were  so  accustomed  to  see  me  in  my  place  and  al- 
ways at  work  that  when  I  now  had  my  doors  closed,  and 
it  was  said  that  I  was  sick,  it  seemed  beyond  their  com- 
prehension. But  the  government  medical  officer  at  On- 
gole saw  what  was  needed.  He  ordered  me  to  our  little 
bungalow  at  Kottapatam  by  the  sea,  ten  miles  east  of 
Ongole,  and  there  I  now  stayed  much  of  the  time;  for 
there  I  could  rest  and  yet  could  keep  my  hand  on  the 
work  in  Ongole. 

It  would  not  have  been  possible  for  me  to  hold  that 
field  together  in  a  thriving  condition  if  it  had  not  been 
for  the  strong  band  of  native  preachers  who  were  a  part 
of  the  movement.  I  was  at  the  head,  and  formed  the 
link  between  the  field  and  our  society  in  America.  They 
did  the  rest.  The  group  of  men  who  came  to  us  at  the 
beginning  now  stood  out  with  prominence.  The  people 
called  them  the  "big,  or  elder,  preachers."  They  were 
the  men  who  had  made  the  search  for  truth  in  Hindu 
religious  movements  before  they  knew  anything  of  the 
Christian  religion.  Their  apprenticeship  as  Christian 
preachers  had  been  served  under  me;  they  had  stood  by 
my  side  during  famine  and  ingathering.  They  were  pil- 
lars of  strength  to  me.  We  had  had  successive  classes  of 
graduates  from  the  theological  seminary,  and  some  of 
them  were  leaders  among  their  people.  But  those  "big 
preachers"  had  a  place  in  the  hearts  of  us  all  which  was 
undisputed.  Somehow  there  was  a  spiritual  background 
with  those  men  which  we  all  felt,  and  to  which  we 
yielded  the  first  place. 

I  began  to  wonder  whether  the  time  had  come  when 
the  strength  of  this  work  would  have  to  undergo  a  severe 


SELF-SUPPORT   IN   PRACTICE  361 

test.  It  would  have  been  premature  to  make  the  native 
church  wholly  responsible.  But  with  no  missionaries 
from  America  in  sight,  our  appeals  bringing  no  apparent 
response — it  looked  as  if  something  of  that  kind  might 
be  coming  at  a  time  not  very  far  off.  Sometimes,  when 
too  ill  for  days  to  leave  my  bed,  I  told  myself  that  it 
would  not  take  much  to  extinguish  the  little  flame  of  life 
that  was  now  only  flickering  in  my  body.  If  they  carried 
all  that  remained  of  me  around  the  hill  to  our  cemetery, 
then  what  would  become  of  this  Ongole  Mission? 

I  felt  that  I  wanted  to  talk  this  over  with  those  faith- 
ful men,  the  "big  preachers"  of  the  mission.  Yerraguntla 
Periah  was  still  with  us,  an  old  man  now,  but  a  host  in 
himself.  There  were  others  like  him.  They  had  evi- 
dently faced  the  situation  from  their  own  point  of  view. 
They  saw  how  I  was  left  alone  year  after  year.  Their 
one  fear  was  that  some  day  they  might  come  to  Ongole 
and  find  that  I  was  gone,  sent  out  of  the  country  per- 
haps, suddenly,  by  doctor's  orders,  as  is  sometimes  the 
case  in  India.  I  asked  them  what  they  would  do  if  I  had 
to  leave  them.  They  refused  to  face  this.  They  said 
they  would  do  all  the  work  contentedly  if  only  they  knew 
that  I  was  at  Ongole  and  had  not  left  them.  I  said,  "Sup- 
pose the  day  is  near  when  you  will  have  to  learn  to  stand 
with  no  white  missionary  to  help  you."  They  replied, 
"We  cannot  do  it  yet.  Wait  till  our  children  grow  up. 
They  are  in  school,  and  are  getting  the  education  that  is 
necessary  before  we  native  people  can  stand  alone.  Stay 
with  us  till  they  are  grown  up.  Then  we  will  be  able  to 
get  on  without  missionaries  from  America.  Not  yet." 
There  it  was  left.  I  could  give  them  no  assurance.  I 
told  them  we  must  all  look  to  God  for  help ;  for  the  work 
was  his. 

After  I  had  taken  them  into  my  confidence,  the  preach- 
ers looked  about  on  their  fields,  and  talked  the  situation 


362  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN   THE   ORIENT 

over  together.  There  were  converts  everywhere  in  the 
villages  ready  for  baptism.  The  preachers  had  put  them 
off  and  told  them  to  wait  till  "our  Clough  Dhora"  could 
come  on  tour,  or  some  other  missionary.  As  they  real- 
ized that  no  one  could  come  to  them,  they  began  to  ask 
themselves  why  they  should  not  gather  the  people  to- 
gether and  take  them  to  Ongole  for  baptism.  It  required 
some  concerted  action :  the  villages  needed  to  be  stirred. 
Rumors  began  to  spread  from  village  to  village  that  large 
companies  of  converts  were  going  to  walk  long  dis- 
tances to  Ongole  to  receive  baptism.  Even  those  who 
lived  thirty  or  forty  miles  from  Ongole  did  not  hesitate. 
It  meant  several  days  of  walking,  at  the  rate  of  ten 
miles  a  day,  and  there  were  the  weary  miles  back  home. 
They  knew  they  would  be  footsore  in  doing  it.  But  a 
revival  was  once  more  sweeping  over  the  Madiga  com- 
munity. To  go  to  Ongole  and  receive  Christian  baptism 
was  the  one  thing  they  wanted  to  do,  and  they  forgot  the 
miles  they  had  to  walk. 

I  became  aware  of  this  movement.  It  looked  as  if 
upon  us,  who  were  so  little  able  to  bear  more  than 
a  very  quiet  daily  routine,  a  revival  was  now  coming, 
the  like  of  which  we  had  not  seen  since  the  great  in- 
gathering thirteen  years  before.  When  the  preachers 
came  to  the  usual  quarterly  meeting,  December  14, 
1890,  they  brought  with  them  352  converts  for  bap- 
tism. They  told  me  that  many  more  were  waiting, 
and  urged  me  not  to  put  them  off  much  longer,  lest 
they  grow  disheartened.  We  therefore  decided  on  an- 
other meeting  two  weeks  hence. 

The  preachers  went  out  into  the  villages  to  gather  the 
converts.  Saturday  afternoon,  December  27,  a  great 
crowd  began  pouring  into  the  mission  compound.  Sun- 
day morning  we  saw  that  the  chapel  could  not  hold  one 
third  of  the  people;  for  they  had  come  by  thousands.  We 


"One  thing  I  know:  I  loved  the  people.  And  when  I  told  them  in  the 
simplest  words  that  I  could  use  about  Jesus  Christ  and  his  love  for  them,  they 
somehow  believed  me.  Whether  my  listeners  were  a  few,  or  whether  they 
were  a  croud,  by  the  time  I  was  done  telling  them  of  Jesus'  love  they  believed 
in  it  and  wanted  it." 


SELF-SUPPORT   IN    PRACTICE  363 

discarded  the  chapel  and  seated  the  people  under  the 
margosa  trees  near  the  veranda  of  my  study.  I  stood  on 
the  veranda  steps  and  preached  to  them  for  an  hour  on 
my  favorite  text:  "Come  unto  me,  all  ye  that  labor  and 
are  heavy  laden."  After  the  sermon  the  preachers  spent 
some  hours  in  the  examination  of  those  who  had  come 
for  baptism. 

We  began  baptizing  early  in  the  afternoon  in  the  bap- 
tistery under  the  big  tamarind  tree  in  the  middle  of  the 
garden,  close  to  my  bungalow.  Two  preachers  officiated 
at  a  time,  much  as  we  had  done  at  Vellumpilly  twelve  and 
a  half  years  before.  It  took  four  and  one  half  hours, 
and  the  total  was  1,671.  Many  who  could  not  come  the 
fifty  or  sixty  miles  into  Ongole  sent  us  urgent  appeals  to 
come  out  there  and  baptize  them.  I  could  not  go,  and  I 
had  no  one  to  send. 

A  revival  was  on  us.  It  was  not  confined  to  Ongole. 
From  the  time  way  back  in  1869,  two  years  after  I  be- 
gan work  in  Ongole,  when  a  revival  broke  out  in  Cum- 
bum,  and  hundreds  were  baptized,  that  field  had  continued 
fruitful  and  prosperous.  During  the  past  eight  years  it 
had  been  independent  of  Ongole,  with  its  own  mission- 
ary, Rev.  John  Newcomb.  Ongole  and  Cumbum  now 
kept  pace.  During  the  three  months  beginning  with  the 
quarterly  meeting  in  December,  1890,  we  at  Ongole  bap- 
tized 3,765  converts,  the  missionary  at  Cumbum  1,466. 
Cumbum  at  the  time  of  the  great  ingathering  belonged  to 
Ongole,  and  the  proportion  of  baptisms  now  approached 
closely  the  relative  figures  at  that  time.  There  was  no 
famine  now ;  no  one  had  reason  to  look  for  material  bene- 
fits. The  people  had  become  roused ;  they  were  asking 
about  spiritual  gifts;  they  knew  they  had  souls  and 
wanted  to  find  a  way  to  save  them. 

Thus  did  God  show  us  that  he  could  work  his  will  and 
complete  his  own  purposes  wholly  regardless  of  what  was 


364  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN   THE   ORIENT 

done  by  the  churches  in  America.  To  teach  men  and 
women  to  believe  in  Jesus  Christ  was  what  he  had  called 
us  to  do.  They  were  believing  by  thousands.  We  had 
not  the  strength  to  gather  them  in.  It  looked  almost  as 
if  the  Telugu  Mission  had  had  a  life  all  its  own,  and  as  if 
the  Lord  Jesus  had  taken  it  into  his  special  care. 


XXI 

THE  RESPONSE  AT   HOME 

THOSE  years  in  the  eighties  were  a  time  of  great  strain 
in  the  foreign  missionary  enterprise.  It  came  through 
the  far-reaching  changes  that  were  taking  place  the 
world  over.  The  East  was  waking  up,  and  the  West  was 
becoming  aware  of  great  opportunities  open  to  those 
who  knew  how  to  seize  them. 

Travelers  were  going  around  the  world,  bringing  back 
tidings  of  the  ancient  civilizations  they  had  seen.  Com- 
merce was  spreading  fast;  political  relations  were  grow- 
ing; consular  service  became  a  necessity;  and  ambassa- 
dors from  Western  governments  were  sent  to  nations  of 
the  East,  whose  doors  had  until  recently  been  closed  to 
the  white  race. 

The  men  and  women  of  our  nation  were  beginning  to 
take  a  keen  interest  in  the  races  populating  distant  parts 
of  the  world.  The  resourcefulness  of  the  Asiatics  was  a 
marvel  to  Americans,  as  they  read  about  them  in  the  daily 
papers.  Many  had  first  heard  about  oriental  races  in 
missionary  meetings.  It  was  now  more  than  twenty  years 
since  the  women  of  the  churches  had  put  forth  organized 
efforts.  They  had  carried  the  children  with  them,  en- 
listing their  sympathy.  These  children  were  growing 
into  manhood  and  womanhood  and  gave  evidence  of 
their  training. 

We  missionaries  at  the  outposts  were  sending  home  to 

365 


366  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN   THE   ORIENT 

our  constituency  reports  of  the  fields  open  and  waiting 
for  occupancy.  We  were  appealing  for  a  more  aggres- 
sive policy.  The  question  was  whether  missionary  ac- 
tivities could  keep  step  with  the  progress  of  the  time. 
There  was  much  response  in  the  home  churches.  Men 
saw  that  a  new  basis  for  missionary  endeavor  was 
needed;  something  far-reaching  must  be  undertaken. 
The  missionary  societies  were  under  fire,  especially  from 
the  financial  point  of  view.  Existing  methods  seemed  too 
slow.  There  were  aggressive  men  who  pointed  out  that 
since  the  world  was  now  open,  men  and  women  of  zeal 
should  be  given  brief  missionary  training,  and  sent  out 
in  numbers  to  carry  the  gospel  to  all  parts  of  the  world. 
An  idea  prevailed  that  by  some  sudden  process  the 
heathen  were  to  believe  in  Jesus  Christ,  to  form  them- 
selves into  churches,  become  self-sustaining,  and  then 
promptly  be  left  to  themselves.  The  various  attempts  to 
solve  the  question  of  winning  the  world  for  Christ  were 
watched  with  deep  interest.  Men  were  working  their 
way  through  to  new  ideas  of  Christian  activity. 

During  those  years,  while  the  missionary  motive  de- 
manded expansion,  the  call  for  social  service  began  dis- 
tinctly to  be  heard  in  the  churches.  Forerunners  of  a 
new  era  talked  of  the  kingdom  of  Christ  which  was  to 
come  on  earth,  to  save  not  only  the  souls  of  men,  but 
their  whole  environment.  Social  Christianity  was  wak- 
ing up  the  churches  at  home.  The  effects  were  felt  on 
the  foreign  field.  Men  were  introducing  business  meth- 
ods into  phases  of  Christian  life  that  had  lain  dormant. 
The  energy  of  modern  Western  civilization  pulsated  in 
movements  that  united  business  capacity  and  strategic 
skill  to  the  desire  to  exalt  Jesus  Christ  in  the  hearts  of 
men.  The  Young  Men's  Christian  Association  had  for 
years  been  doing  pioneer  work  in  this  respect,  and  was 
now  carrying  its  work  to  foreign  lands.  It  was  the  first 


THE   RESPONSE   AT    HOME  367 

movement  of  the  kind  that  gathered  Christian  men  into 
one  united  effort  beyond  the  boundary  lines  of  denomi- 
nationalism. 

Situations  such  as  existed  in  our  Telugu  Mission 
brought  into  clear  outline  the  demand  for  larger  re- 
sources. There  was  no  adequate  recruiting  agency  at 
the  command  of  the  missionary  boards  to  form  the  link 
between  the  demands  of  the  foreign  field  and  the  supply 
which  had  to  be  drawn  from  the  theological  institutions 
and  the  men  already  in  the  pastorate.  As  a  first  step 
toward  concerted  action  the  Inter-Seminary  Alliance 
was  formed  during  those  years.  It  was  a  united  effort 
of  missionary  societies,  and  was  in  the  right  direction. 
But  something  more  far-reaching  was  needed.  The  de- 
mand for  men  on  the  foreign  field  continued  to  outrun 
the  supply  available.  The  boards  were  ever  under  pres- 
sure. They  enlisted  a  man  here  and  a  man  there,  while 
they  felt  that  the  call  of  the  hour  was  for  an  uprising  of 
many  men,  ready  to  respond.  The  time  was  ripe  for 
such  an  undertaking  as  the  Student  Volunteer  Movement. 

It  was  in  the  summer  of  1886.  Three  hundred  stu- 
dents from  ninety  colleges  were  in  conference  at  North- 
field.  Christian  service  was  the  subject;  no  one  talked 
of  foreign  missions.  A  nucleus  of  men  among  the  stu- 
dents, however,  had  a  spiritual  passion  for  the  world's 
evangelization.  They  met  in  their  rooms;  others  joined 
them.  It  spread.  A  call  went  out  to  every  one  of  the 
students.  They  had  meetings  of  consecration  of  which 
men  afterwards  could  not  speak  without  deep  emotion. 
A  pledge  was  passed  around,  expressing  the  willingness, 
if  God  permit,  to  become  a  foreign  missionary.  One 
hundred  of  the  men  signed  it.  They  went  back  to  their 
studies.  Two  of  them  visited  the  colleges  of  the  United 
States  from  East  to  West.  The  young  intellectual  life  of 
America  was  touched.  It  was  a  great  onward  move- 


368  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY  IN   THE   ORIENT 

merit,  which  had  due  regard  for  denominational  lines, 
and  yet,  in  the  spirit  of  it,  went  far  beyond  them.  The 
urgent  call  from  the  foreign  field  was  answered  by  thou- 
sands of  Student  Volunteers. 

All  this  would  not  have  been  possible  if  there  had  not 
been  a  deep  undercurrent  of  missionary  interest  in  the 
churches,  ready  always  to  flow  forth  to  meet  an  emer- 
gency. It  was  fed  by  the  tidings  which  came  home  from 
the  foreign  field.  Each  denomination  had  its  special 
fields,  with  which  the  men  and  women  and  children  of 
the  churches  became  acquainted,  as  with  something  that 
belonged  to  them.  The  Baptists  had  no  mission  dearer  to 
them  than  the  Telugu  Mission.  There  were  men  still 
living  who  were  present  during  the  "Lone  Star"  debate 
at  Albany,  in  1853.  They  gave  their  reminiscences. 
Other  points  of  contact  had  been  made.  In  emergencies 
the  men  and  women  of  those  days  had  helped.  It  was  a 
rich  experience  in  their  lives.  It  had  happened  in  their 
own  lifetime  that  prophecy  had  been  fulfilled,  and  that 
something  that  looked  a  good  deal  like  a  miracle  had 
taken  place.  After  all,  it  was  not  only  in  Bible  times 
that  men  were  moved  as  by  divine  inspiration.  Such 
things  had  happened  in  their  own  day.  Men  did  not 
weary  of  the  story. 

Year  after  year  the  call  from  the  Telugu  Mission  beg- 
ging for  reenforcement  was  heard  in  the  churches.  We 
were  not  alone  in  this.  The  missions  in  China,  Japan, 
Burma  and  Africa  were  calling  for  men.  We  men  at 
the  front  were  bowed  down  under  our  burdens  till  our 
cries  rose  to  God  Almighty.  Help  was  coming.  The 
churches  were  slowly  becoming  roused.  Men  were  feel- 
ing after  information.  If  some  one  would  rise  up  and 
point  out  the  way  a  host  was  ready  to  follow.  Pastors 
and  laymen  were  talking  it  over  together.  There  was  an 
undercurrent  of  impatience.  Men  were  weary  of  these 


THE  RESPONSE  AT  HOME  369 

cries  from  their  mission  fields.  Something  must  be  done. 
Many  were  ready  to  act. 

The  annual  meeting  of  1890  came.  Again  the  re- 
ports from  the  several  mission  fields  contained  one  long 
plea  for  reinforcement.  We  of  the  Telugu  Mission  had 
sent  home  an  appeal,  to  which  we  all  had  signed  our 
names.  We  were  nine  men  and  twelve  women,  in 
charge  of  ten  mission  stations  and  33,000  Telugu 
Christians.  Our  appeal  was  printed.  It  was  distributed 
during  the  meetings,  and  touched  the  hearts  of  many 
who  felt  that  this  could  no  longer  be  endured. 

A  crisis  was  at  hand.  Dr.  Murdock  was  the  one  who 
met  it.  He  was  nearing  the  close  of  a  long  term  of  ser- 
vice as  Foreign  Secretary.  With  his  wide  outlook  he 
knew  the  signs  of  the  times.  He  knew  that  a  period  of 
reconstruction  for  our  society  was  at  hand.  What  form 
the  change  would  take  he  did  not  know.  The  few  can- 
didates for  foreign  service  of  that  year  were  standing 
on  the  platform.  They  had  told  briefly  of  their  call  to 
the  service,  and  had  received  words  of  cheer  and  advice. 
Now  came  a  sudden  turn  in  events,  unexpected  but  far- 
reaching.  Dr.  Henry  C.  Mabie  was  sitting  in  the  audi- 
ence. Dr.  Murdock  requested  him  to  come  to  the  plat- 
form and  offer  the  dedicatory  prayer.  He  went  up,  and 
stood  with  the  candidates.  He  turned  to  the  audience 
and  asked  permission  to  speak.  Words  fell  in  a  torrent 
from  his  lips.  All  that  other  men  had  felt,  and  longed 
to  express,  he  now  said  for  them.  It  raised  a  storm  of 
sympathetic  response.  The  dedicatory  prayer  was  of- 
fered. This  prayer  marked  a  turn  in  the  history  of  the 
society. 

The  progressive  element  among  the  pastors  wanted  Dr. 
Mabie  to  represent  them.  The  next  day  he  was  elected 
Home  Secretary  of  the  society.  A  new  office  was  thus 
created.  There  was  to  be  a  united  effort  at  enlargement 


370  SOCIAL    CHRISTIANITY    IN    THE    ORIENT 

and  expansion.  It  was  decided  that  the  new  secretary 
should  first  travel  around  the  world,  and  visit  the  mis- 
sions of  the  society  in  Japan,  China,  Burma  and  India, 
and  study  the  needs  of  the  field.  The  denomination  was 
getting  ready  to  do  something  on  a  new  scale.  They 
were  prepared  to  stand  by  him  when  he  came  back  with 
his  report,  no  matter  what  the  demand  might  be. 

I  heard  of  all  this,  and  was  glad.  I  had  had  personal 
contacts  with  Dr.  Mabie  since  the  time  when  he  was  a  lad 
of  seventeen,  and  I  rode  over  the  prairies  of  Iowa  with 
his  uncle,  telling  him  of  my  call  to  the  foreign  field. 
Twice  in  the  course  of  the  years  I  appealed  to  him  to 
come  to  India.  I  always  felt  the  man  would  have  to 
come  some  day.  He  wrote  to  me  now :  "You  see,  the 
way  is  opening  to  go  myself  at  last.  I  have  yearned  to 
go  and  personally  relieve  you  for  a  time,  that  you  might 
come  home  to  rest.  Cheer  up,  beloved,  I'll  do  my  best, 
and  I  am  daily  by  your  side  via  the  mercy  seat."  He 
came  in  January,  1891.  We  were  to  meet  him  in  Nel- 
lore  and  have  a  conference  with  him.  I  rode  all  night  in 
my  cart,  and  when  I  halted,  at  early  dawn,  before  the 
mission  bungalow  in  Nellore,  he  stood  there  in  the  gray 
light.  I  put  my  hands  on  his  shoulders  and  shook  him, 
and  said,  "We  have  you  here  at  last,  old  fellow.  Now 
get  away  again,  if  you  can." 

Decisive  plans  for  the  future  of  the  Telugu  Mission 
were  now  made.  The  whole  field,  from  north  to  south, 
was  to  be  reen forced.  The  new  secretary,  supported  by 
my  fellow-missionaries,  laid  it  upon  me  to  go  to  America, 
enlist  twenty-five  men  for  the  Telugu  Mission,  and  col- 
lect $50,000  to  equip  them.  The  division  of  the  Ongole 
field  was  part  of  the  project.  My  impaired  health  had 
shown  to  us  all  that  if  I  were  permanently  incapacitated, 
or  withdrawn  by  death,  the  result  might  be  disastrous 
to  the  work.  I  was  to  provide  for  it  while  it  was  still 


THE  RESPONSE   AT   HOME  371 

in  my  power  to  do  so.  It  was  not  an  easy  decision  for 
me  to  face.  I  had  seen  this  emergency  ahead  only  as 
through  a  glass,  dimly.  My  load  was  heavy,  to  be  sure, 
but  there  was  much  consolation  in  carrying  it.  Very 
reluctantly  I  yielded,  and  agreed  to  the  new  plans. 

It  was  hard  to  break  away  from  Ongole.  The  people 
protested.  The  faithful  band  of  preachers  came  in  from 
the  field.  It  took  me  three  days  to  convince  them  of 
the  necessity  for  my  going,  and  to  put  courage  into 
them.  Upon  them,  and  upon  all  the  thousands  who 
now  came  and  went,  inquiring  what  was  going  to  be 
done,  I  put  a  burden  which  they  promised  to  carry. 
They  agreed  to  pray  every  day  for  my  success  in  Amer- 
ica, that  I  might  get  the  twenty-five  men  and  the 
needed  money,  and  come  back  to  them  soon.  Consid- 
ering that  we  had  30,000  members,  who  in  varying  de- 
gree of  faithfulness  voiced  this  petition  every  day — it 
produced  a  volume  of  power.  They  used  to  add,  "Let 
him  get  it  easily;  for  he  is  not  well." 

I  arrived  in  Boston  May  17,  1891.  The  annual  meet- 
ings were  to  be  held  in  Cincinnati  ten  days  later.  To 
go  there  and  state  before  a  great  audience  what  I  had 
come  home  to  get  for  my  mission  was  a  task  suited  to 
a  well  man,  not  to  one  who  had  to  hoard  his  strength 
as  a  miser  does  his  gold.  If  I  could  have  spoken  in 
Telugu,  to  dusky  faces,  I  would  not  have  cared  how 
many  thousands  were  before  me.  But  my  English 
tongue  for  public  speaking  was  rusty.  I  quietly  went  on 
the  platform  during  the  morning  session,  and  sat  there 
to  get  accustomed  to  a  sea  of  white  faces. 

As  the  time  approached  for  my  address,  in  the  eve- 
ning, my  strength  was  sinking.  Nevertheless,  I  was 
upheld.  The  house  was  packed.  I  spoke  for  forty 
minutes.  When  I  came  before  the  audience,  they  ap- 
plauded. It  was  the  last  thing  I  wanted.  I  stretched 


372  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN   THE   ORIENT 

out  my  arm  and  made  the  emphatic,  rapid  movement 
with  my  hand  which  is  the  Telugu  gesture  for,  "No,  no ; 
I  do  not  want  it."  Some  of  the  papers  reported  that  I 
put  forth  my  hand  as  if  to  ward  off  a  blow.  I  knew 
how  my  countrymen  enjoyed  having  their  feelings  stirred 
by  missionary  adventure.  On  former  visits  in  America 
I  sometimes  told  them  we  did  not  want  their  tears,  be- 
cause missions  were  not  run  by  water  power.  The 
papers  talked  of  me  as  a  venerable  old  man,  yet  I  was 
only  fifty-five  years  of  age,  grown  prematurely  old 
through  the  burdens  I  had  carried. 

I  began  by  saying,  "Fathers  and  Brethren  of  the  For- 
eign Mission  Society,  you  will  have  to  be  patient  with  me. 
I  will  do  the  best  I  can,  but  I  am  not  well.  I  have  not 
an  English  tongue  with  me,  and  I  have  been  in  the 
United  States  only  ten  days.  God  help  you  to  under- 
stand our  situation."  I  told  them  in  simple  words  how 
the  Telugu  Mission  had  grown  until  now  it  was  neces- 
sary to  make  some  special  effort  to  establish  it.  We  must 
have  twenty-five  new  men,  and  also  $50,000  to  send 
these  men  out  and  build  houses  for  them  and  provide 
their  salaries  for  one  year.  I  asked  them  to  grant 
this  request  soon,  without  expecting  great  labor  from 
me;  for  I  was  broken  in  health,  and  must  regain  my 
strength  in  order  to  go  back  to  my  people  in  India. 
Nearly  five  thousand  dollars  were  subscribed  at  this  meet- 
ing. The  Baptists  were  stirred. 

This  was  the  sequel  to  that  memorable  meeting  in 
Albany,  in  1853,  when  men  wept  because  they  felt  the 
abandonment  of  the  Telugu  Mission  was  not  to  be  en- 
dured. Here  now  they  had  a  man  before  them  who  for 
years  had  been  staggering  under  the  load  of  the  harvest 
that  had  come.  I  made  a  heavy  demand  upon  them. 
They  granted  everything  for  which  I  asked.  One  year 
later,  most  of  the  twenty-five  men,  and  as  many  women, 


THE  RESPONSE  AT  HOME  373 

stood  on  the  platform  together,  at  the  annual  meeting, 
ready  to  go  to  the  Telugu  Mission.  Fifty  thousand 
dollars  were  given  to  me  twice  over,  because  when  the 
first  was  on  hand,  we  asked  for  an  endowment  for  a 
college  at  Ongole.  Often,  out  in  India,  I  had  felt  forsaken 
by  my  constituency.  Now  when  I  came  home,  and  stood 
before  the  men  of  my  denomination,  they  granted  every- 
thing I  asked  of  them.  Had  I  asked  for  more  they 
would  not  have  withheld  it. 

The  Lord  Jesus  was  in  it.  The  work  in  the  Telugu 
Mission  was  his  work.  I  was  only  the  man  who  had  tried 
to  do  his  bidding,  all  through  the  years.  When  now 
I  formed  the  link  with  his  followers  in  America,  there 
was  instant  response.  He  was  bringing  the  uttermost 
parts  of  the  earth  together  in  spiritual  contact. 

I  could  not  begin  my  task  at  once.  Six  months  were 
passed  with  my  family  in  recuperation.  Meanwhile  I 
was  getting  my  bearings.  I  soon  found  that  I  was  being 
carried  along  by  the  strong  current  of  spiritual  energy 
and  consecration  which  had  been  generated  by  the 
Student  Volunteer  Movement.  When  I  had  to  find  four 
men  for  the  Telugu  Mission  in  1873,  I  had  no  move- 
ment of  that  kind  to  help  me.  It  was  as  hard  then  to 
get  the  four  as  it  was  now  to  get  the  twenty-five.  Bap- 
tists had  participated  in  that  movement.  Some  of  the 
leaders  in  it  were  Baptists.  Ten  of  the  twenty-five  men 
whom  I  enlisted  for  the  Telugus  had  signed  the  Volun- 
teer Declaration.  No  wonder  that  a  man  like  me,  worn 
with  service,  could  find  his  twenty-five  recruits  before 
a  year  had  passed  by. 

Everywhere  I  found  the  hearts  of  people  warm  with 
interest  in  the  Telugu  Mission.  The  story  of  it  had 
been  told  and  retold.  Yet  they  wanted  to  hear  more. 
It  was  no  longer  possible  for  me  to  go  about  and  hold 
meetings  at  rapid  intervals,  as  I  did  on  previous  visits 


374  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN   THE   ORIENT 

in  the  United  States.  Generally  several  churches  com- 
bined in  some  large  gathering.  Thus  I  could  reach  many 
with  a  minimum  of  effort.  Dr.  Mabie  was  conducting 
a  campaign  in  which  the  home  forces  of  the  society  par- 
ticipated. Great  meetings  were  held.  The  second  of 
these  was  at  Des  Moines,  Iowa.  I  was  present,  and 
found  myself  on  familiar  ground,  in  the  state  from 
which  I  was  sent  to  India.  Faces  of  old  friends  greeted 
me.  The  warm  grasp  of  their  hands  showed  me  that  I 
was  not  forgotten.  Men  from  adjoining  states  were 
there.  The  meetings  overflowed  from  the  Baptist  meet- 
ing-house into  the  larger  Presbyterian  edifice.  On  the 
closing  night  the  large  opera  house  of  the  city  was 
freely  offered.  Crowds  were  coming  that  night  to  hear 
me  tell  the  story  of  the  Telugu  Mission.  Not  less  than 
fifteen  men  and  women  soon  after  volunteered  for  service 
abroad.  Several  of  these  are  to  this  day  filling  prominent 
places  in  various  missions.  The  men  for  the  Telugus 
were  coming,  and  now  we  were  recruiting  other  mis- 
sions as  well.  Those  who  had  long  been  looking  for 
some  great  forward  movement  began  to  think  that  signs 
of  it  were  at  hand. 

There  were  great  celebrations  in  America  at  that  time. 
The  year  1892  completed  four  hundred  years  since  the 
discovery  of  America  by  Columbus.  The  World's  Fair 
was  held  in  Chicago.  Americans  were  in  a  mood  to  do 
something  big,  and  to  see  money  poured  out  in  streams. 
The  missionary  enterprise,  too,  had  a  centenary  to  cele- 
brate. It  was  now  one  hundred  years  since  Dr.  William 
Carey  went  to  India.  The  Baptists  in  England  were  rais- 
ing a  centenary  fund  of  £100,000  for  their  foreign  mis- 
sions. 

The  American  Baptists  had  helped  support  Carey  and 
his  associates  till  Adoniram  Judson,  in  1814,  gave  us 
occasion  to  form  our  own  missionary  society.  We  de- 


THE  RESPONSE  AT    HOME  375 

cided  that  we,  too,  would  celebrate  the  Carey  Centenary. 
A  million  dollars  and  one  hundred  new  missionaries  were 
called  for,  to  reenforce  all  our  mission  fields.  The  Bap- 
tists had  never  faced  such  an  undertaking  before.  But 
the  Telugu  Mission  had  already  served  as  the  enter- 
ing wedge.  Men  and  money  on  a  large  scale  were  in 
sight.  The  denomination  rose  to  the  call.  At  the  end 
of  1892  the  project  was  announced  a  complete  success. 
The  first  part  of  my  task  was  finished  when  1892  be- 
gan. Then  there  came  a  call  for  a  second  $50,000. 
The  leading  high  caste  inhabitants  of  Ongole  had  sent  a 
petition  to  our  Foreign  Mission  Society,  signed  by  about 
fifty  of  them.  They  requested  in  very  courteous  and 
urgent  terms  that  our  high  school  in  Ongole  might  be 
raised  to  the  grade  of  a  college.  They  wished  hence- 
forth to  look  to  the  Baptist  Mission  for  the  education 
of  their  sons,  paying  fees  as  they  would  in  a  govern- 
ment institution.  They  wrote : 

"Missionaries  have  been  sent  out  to  preach  the  Christian 
faith.  While  fulfilling  the  object  of  their  mission,  they  have 
not  ignored  the  general  status  of  the  people ;  with  a  view  to 
develop  the  nobler  qualities  of  man  they  have  awakened  in 
them  a  desire  after  Western  education." 

This  petition  was  regarded  in  Boston  as  an  historical 
document.  A  long  road  lay  between  the  request  it  con- 
tained and  the  time  in  1867  when  the  Brahmans  of 
Ongole  broke  up,  for  the  time  being,  a  government 
school,  because  I  tried  to  bring  three  Christian  boys 
into  it.  The  change  was  considered  a  sign  of  the  times. 
Again  I  had  opposition  to  face.  My  fellow-mission- 
aries were  against  the  project  almost  to  a  man.  They 
united  in  sending  a  protest  to  Boston :  they  did  not  want 
a  college,  because  few  Christian  lads  were  ready  to 


SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN   THE   ORIENT 

enter,  and  the  heathen,  they  claimed,  should  have  no 
consideration  in  this  matter.  In  America,  too,  here  and 
there,  the  old  argument  against  the  use  of  mission 
money  for  secular  education  of  the  heathen  was  revived. 
I  held  out  against  it  all.  I  knew  I  was  on  the  right 
road.  Several  other  missionary  societies  in  America  and 
in  Europe  had  founded  and  endowed  large  colleges  in 
non-Christian  lands.  I  refused  to  believe  that  we  Baptists 
could  be  on  the  wrong  track  by  endowing  a  college  for 
our  growing  Christian  community  of  about  200,000  ad- 
herents, letting  the  caste  people  send  their  sons  to  it,  ac- 
cording to  their  request 

I  went  ahead.  I  had  the  leading  men  of  our  society 
with  me.  Dr.  Mabie  told  Americans  of  his  interview 
with  the  Brahmans  of  Ongole,  when  they  requested 
him  to  tell  his  countrymen  that  they  would  intrust  their 
sons  to  our  care.  Dr.  Murdock  handled  the  situation 
in  a  masterly  fashion.  From  beginning  to  end  through 
all  the  years  he  had  stood  by  me  with  an  unwavering 
support,  while  I  sought  to  provide  educational  equipment 
for  our  Telugu  Christians.  Through  the  denominational 
press  the  two  secretaries  announced  the  project  of  a 
second  $50,000  for  the  Telugu  Mission,  as  an  endow- 
ment for  a  college. 

I  had  been  going,  in  a  friendly  way,  to  the  home  of 
John  D.  Rockefeller,  but  had  not  thus  far  asked  him 
to  help  me.  Now  I  told  him  I  needed  him.  Ten  years 
before  he  gave  money  for  our  large  high  school  build- 
ing. He  agreed  to  take  half  of  this  present  load  upon 
himself;  he  knew  I  could  carry  the  other  half.  In  six 
months  the  task  was  completed.  An  illiterate  people 
I  had  found  those  Madigas  twenty  years  before.  There 
was  no  reason  now  why  they  should  not  have  physicians 
and  lawyers  and  teachers  and  government  officials  of 
their  own,  to  help  in  the  uplifting  of  their  fellows. 


THE  RESPONSE  AT   HOME  377 

This  last  stroke  of  work  was  strenuous,  but  by  it  the 
permanence  of  our  Telugu  Mission  was  assured.  If  now 
by  death,  or  other  cause,  I  were  removed  from  my  post,  it 
would  apparently  make  no  difference.  The  stability  of 
the  work  was  insured,  so  far  as  resources  from  America 
were  concerned.  I  returned  to  India  toward  the  end 
of  1892,  prepared  to  help  in  the  readjustments  proposed. 

Two  of  my  daughters,  with  their  husbands,  were 
among  the  new  missionaries,  and  had  preceded  me. 
My  two  sons  were  settled  in  business  in  America.  My 
youngest  daughter  was  in  college.  Mrs.  Clough  had 
made  a  home  for  our  children  until  they  had  obtained 
a  college  education,  and  for  my  aged  mother  till  she 
died.  My  children  grew  up  without  the  personal  care  of 
their  father,  except  by  weekly  letters,  but  they  had  the 
wise  care  of  their  mother. 

A  few  months  after  my  return  to  Ongole  our  family 
circle  was  greatly  bereaved  in  the  death  of  Mrs.  Clough. 
The  cable  message  came  to  us  in  India  like  a  sudden 
blow.  Through  an  accident  a  heavy  article  of  furniture 
fell  upon  her.  A  long  period  of  unconsciousness  fol- 
lowed. She  died  on  the  morning  of  May  15,  1893.  The 
sudden  nature  of  her  death  accentuated  the  sorrow  which 
was  widely  expressed. 

It  was  a  somewhat  dark  time  for  me  out  in  India. 
I  did  not  see  my  way  before  me  clearly.  My  field 
was  to  be  divided.  I  cannot  say  that  it  was  easy  for 
me  to  let  the  care  of  the  people  pass  into  other  hands. 
I  had  known  for  years  that  this  was  bound  to  come, 
and  had  done  all  in  my  power  to  bring  it  to  pass.  Our 
Christians,  too,  had  known  that  it  was  coming,  and 
willingly  now  entered  into  the  changes  which  it  brought. 
I  waited  until  the  new  missionaries  had  had  a  year  for 
the  study  of  the  Telugu  language.  Then,  one  after  an- 
other, they  took  over  portions  of  my  old  field,  follow- 


SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN   THE   ORIENT 

ing  the  taluk  boundaries.  Each  man  built  a  bungalow 
in  the  taluk  town,  and  began  the  activities  of  a  separate 
mission  station.  The  original  Ongole  field  had  covered 
more  than  ten  taluks.  The  outlying  taluks  had  been 
made  independent  fields  in  1883.  The  rest  were  staked 
off  now.  I  kept  the  Ongole  taluk  and  one  adjoining  it. 

Again  we  dealt  with  large  groups  in  giving  letters  of 
dismissal  from  the  Ongole  church  to  those  who  were 
now  to  form  new  churches  in  their  taluk  towns.  Again 
I  sent  the  people  away  with  words  of  blessing,  com- 
mitting them  to  the  care  of  the  Lord  Jesus,  as  I  had 
always  done.  I  told  them  to  be  faithful  in  their  new 
relations,  but  to  remember  the  Ongole  Mission  always  as 
their  mother.  I  felt  it  keenly  when  I  had  to  give  up 
the  Kanigiri  taluk.  The  old  Kanigiri  preachers  were 
sitting  on  the  platform  once  more  with  the  rest.  Their 
faces  brought  to  my  memory  the  old  days,  when  the 
movement  began  in  the  Kanigiri  taluk  and  spread  so 
fast.  To  their  new  missionary,  who  stood  on  the  plat- 
form with  me,  I  said,  "I  give  you  the  apple  of  my  eye. 
Take  care  of  that  field."  He  still  remains  with  them. 

The  twenty-five  new  men  reenforced  our  Telugu  Mis- 
sion from  north  to  south.  For  the  first  time  in  our 
history  we  could  say  that  our  mission  was  well-manned. 
We  had  staked  our  boundaries  in  1873.  Strategic  points 
had  been  waiting  for  occupancy.  Now  we  could  bring 
our  plans  to  pass.  By  the  time  our  adjustments  were 
completed  we  had  more  than  twenty  mission  stations, 
and  in  several  of  them  additional  men  were  located  for 
educational  or  medical  work.  There  was  much  activity, 
much  reaching  out.  In  some  of  the  more  remote  places 
the  new  missionaries  found  new  ground,  and  entered 
upon  no  man's  labors.  In  the  fields,  however,  that  had 
formerly  belonged  to  the  Ongole  field,  it  was  otherwise. 


THE  RESPONSE   AT   HOME  379 

Definite  methods  were  here  in  operation,  with  the  evi- 
dence of  years  of  work. 

Naturally  the  new  missionaries  were  under  pressure 
from  the  first  to  give  their  close  attention  to  uniting  the 
people  into  self-sustaining  churches.  That  was  the  point 
where  the  work  of  our  Telugu  Mission  was  considered 
weak.  It  was  now  to  be  strengthened,  since  we  had 
men  in  sufficient  numbers  from  America  to  devote  them- 
selves to  the  task.  I  looked  on  at  their  efforts  and  helped 
them  all  I  could.  I  knew  that  the  Western  conception 
of  the  Church  was  not  necessarily  adapted  to  an  Eastern 
community.  I  had  tried  it,  and  had  made  only  a  partial 
success  of  it.  But  I  said  nothing  to  them  about  my 
doubts.  I  wanted  them  to  bring  it  to  pass,  if  it  could 
be  done.  My  only  fear  was  that  they  might  pay  too 
high  a  price  for  any  success  they  might  achieve,  by 
sacrificing  the  spiritual  growth  of  the  people  to  a  rigid 
adherence  to  Western  customs  and  traditions. 

The  men  did  their  best.  They  talked  it  over  among 
themselves  and  at  the  annual  conferences ;  they  put  their 
theories  to  the  test;  they  made  experiments,  as  they  had 
perfect  freedom  to  do.  But  when  they  advocated  some 
new  measure,  they  found  in  trying  to  convince  the  staff 
of  workers  of  its  expediency  that  they  had  come  upon 
conservative  forces  that  held  more  or  less  tenaciously  to 
that  which  had  been  handed  down  from  the  past.  Our 
native  preachers  and  teachers  formed  a  continuity  of 
management.  At  that  time  the  older  men  among  them, 
who  had  helped  me  evolve  the  Ongole  methods,  were 
still  living.  They  gathered  around  the  new  missionaries 
with  the  loyalty  that  had  made  me  prize  them  as 
fellow-workers.  They  had  taught  me  to  see  with  their 
eyes,  and  had  often  in  the  course  of  the  years  made  me 
prune  down  my  opinions  and  intentions.  I  knew  all 


380  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN   THE   ORIENT 

along  that  the  same  process  would  modify  the  views  of 
my  successors. 

Notwithstanding  the  diversity  among  the  new  mis- 
sionaries, and  the  fact  that  they  came  to  their  work 
with  preconceived  ideas,  they  nevertheless,  with  few  ex- 
ceptions, adhered  to  the  methods  which  they  found  in 
force.  They  had  adaptability.  Their  common  sense 
showed  them  that  the  American  type  of  Christianity  did 
not  fit  in  all  cases  into  the  conditions  which  they  here 
found.  After  all,  given  the  people,  and  given  the 
peculiar  circumstances  of  the  case,  we  had  taken  the  line 
of  least  resistance.  It  did  not  therefore  fall  to  my  lot 
to  be  forced  to  stand  by  while  the  work  I  had  built 
up  was  going  to  pieces.  Here  and  there,  in  some  isolated 
case,  I  had  to  bear  this.  That  I  was  spared  an  ex- 
perience of  the  kind  on  a  large  scale  I  count  as  one  of 
the  mercies  of  my  missionary  life. 

I  have  been  asked  what  I  would  do  if  I  were  once 
more  at  the  beginning  of  my  missionary  career;  would 
I  bend  all  my  energies  to  efforts  of  church  organiza- 
tion, or  would  I  make  it  my  chief  aim  to  preach  the 
gospel  of  Jesus?  I  unhesitatingly  say:  I  would  let  all 
the  rest  go,  and  just  preach  Jesus  as  the  Saviour  of  men. 
I  am  glad  I  did  all  in  my  power  to  give  educational 
opportunities  to  the  people.  I  would  again  raise  up  large 
native  agency.  I  would  again  organize  groups  of  be- 
lievers, serving  God  in  the  simple  ways  of  their  village 
life.  I  would  again  do  all  I  could  for  their  social  bet- 
terment. Above  all,  I  would  preach  Jesus,  the  Christ,  to 
them,  and  I  would  consider  everything  else  subservient 
to  that. 

I  can  well  bear  the  criticism  that  I  failed,  at  least  par- 
tially, in  organizing  churches  on  a  self-sustaining  basis. 
It  is  a  minor  charge.  The  day  will  come  when  Western 
people  will  cease  to  expect  the  people  of  the  East  to 


THE  RESPONSE  AT    HOME  381 

adopt  their  customs  and  forms  of  thought  along  with 
their  faith  in  Jesus. 

The  invulnerable  fact  of  the  Ongole  Mission  is  that 
many  thousands  believed  in  Jesus  Christ  as  their  Saviour, 
and  tried  to  serve  him.  They  continued  in  that  faith 
and  died  in  it.  For  this  I  thank  God. 

The  work  goes  on.  A  good  force  of  missionaries  is 
at  the  head.  The  descendants  of  the  converts  of  the  old 
days  form  a  large  proportion  of  the  men  and  women 
in  our  Telugu  churches  to-day.  The  boys  and  girls  who 
received  an  education  in  our  mission  schools  in  the  early 
years  form  the  present  nucleus  of  the  more  intelligent 
members  of  the  Christian  community.  Our  Telugu  Mis- 
sion stands  as  an  instance  of  raising  to  better  social 
conditions  the  submerged  tenth  of  that  land. 


XXII 

THE  END   OF   LIFE 

THIRTY  years  had  passed  since  the  call  of  the  Far  East 
rang  in  my  ears  and  I  was  sent  out  to  the  most  forlorn 
and  desolate  mission  of  the  American  Baptists.  The 
times  had  changed.  The  Lord  Jesus  had  brought  into 
the  lives  of  thousands  a  new  and  uplifting  power  and  had 
expanded  his  Kingdom. 

My  own  work  was  now  practically  finished.  I  had 
lived  a  strenuous  life.  I  had  been  a  part  of  a  great  and 
divine  movement.  I  had  given  myself  to  it  with  all  my 
heart  and  soul.  Then,  because  it  seemed  necessary  for 
the  stability  of  the  interests  which  I  had  cherished,  I 
had  laid  upon  younger  shoulders  much  of  the  responsi- 
bility which  I  had  carried.  This  left  me  in  a  measure 
free.  I  felt  that  I  still  had  capacity  for  work ;  I  was  not 
yet  sixty  years  old.  How  to  utilize  the  years  still  before 
me  was  not  clear  to  me. 

During  the  summer  of  1894  I  left  my  post  at  Ongole 
for  a  few  months  and  went  to  Europe.  During  my 
sojourn  there  I  was  married  to  Miss  Emma  Rauschen- 
busch,  and  we  returned  together  to  India  in  the  fall 
of  that  year.  As  I  told  her  at  that  time,  I  intended  to 
stay  only  two  years  longer. 

But  old  ties  reasserted  themselves.  The  associations 
of  my  life  were  bound  up  with  my  old  bungalow  in 
Ongole.  I  could  not  bring  myself  to  leave  it.  It  was 
all  the  home  I  had.  America  had  ceased  to  seem  like 

382 


THE  END   OF   LIFE  383 

home  to  me.  Had  I  gone  there,  I  would  have  felt  as  a 
stranger  in  the  land  of  my  birth.  I  had  children  and 
grandchildren  in  India  as  well  as  in  America.  More- 
over, just  at  this  time,  my  ten-acre  orange  grove  in 
Florida,  which  was  beginning  to  make  me  independent 
of  other  income,  was  killed  by  one  night's  sharp  frost. 
Even  the  roots  of  my  trees  were  dead.  It  changed  my 
outlook.  I  did  not  want  to  draw  pension.  I  preferred 
to  stay  at  my  post  and  work. 

The  native  people  held  me.  They  would  have  pro- 
tested strongly  against  my  going.  Ongole  had  beem 
the  center  of  the  movement.  As  long  as  I  was  in  the 
old  place,  always  accessible,  the  people  felt  that  two 
essential  elements  of  the  days  of  our  early  strength 
were  intact.  Ongole  and  Clough  were  names  which 
could  not  be  separated  in  the  minds  of  a  host  of  people. 
The  contacts  which  I  had  made  with  men  of  all  castes 
and  kinds  in  the  course  of  the  years  were  still  in  force. 
My  withdrawal  would  have  broken  them  off  prematurely. 
I  felt  this,  and  feared  the  effect  might  be  far-reaching. 

Sometimes  one  of  my  old  trusted  men  came  to  On- 
gole and  sat  down  with  me  in  my  study,  as  formerly, 
and  opened  his  heart  to  me.  They  all  told  me  it  was 
well  that  the  division  of  the  field  had  been  made.  They 
were  loyal  to  their  new  missionaries.  But  they  wanted 
me  to  stay  on  at  Ongole :  it  made  a  difference  to  them. 
They  said :  "Though  you  do  no  work,  and  sit  quietly  in 
your  chair,  with  the  punkah  swinging  over  your  head,  it 
helps  us.  We  are  kept  settled  in  mind,  and  go  about 
our  work  as  before.  If  the  caste  people  ask  us  whether 
our  Clough  Dhora  has  left  us,  we  can  tell  them  that  he 
is  still  in  the  old  bungalow  at  Ongole." 

There  was  the  point:  this  movement  had  grown  to 
large  proportions  in  a  short  span  of  years.  I  had  no 
fears.  Still,  I  was  not  certain  but  that  some  day,  by 


384  SOCIAL  CHRISTIANITY  IN  THE  ORIENT 

some  unforeseen  combination  of  circumstances,  the 
people  might  move  away  from  us  in  masses,  just  as 
they  had  come  in  masses.  That  staff  of  preachers  of 
the  old  days  knew  this  as  well  as  I;  for  they  and  I 
had  watched  over  and  shepherded  the  multitude,  and  the 
Lord  Jesus  had  kept  them  from  straying.  The  well- 
meant  words  of  my  old  fellow-workers  contained  a  val- 
uable hint  as  to  a  necessary  safeguard.  That  is  one 
reason  why  I  stayed  on. 

The  Ongole  methods  were  not  yet  fully  established 
as  legitimate  methods  of  missionary  operations.  I  had 
broken  away  from  a  rigid  adherence  to  the  Western 
forms  of  Christianity.  Some  of  the  men  who  were  at 
work  where  Ongole  methods  prevailed  would  perhaps 
have  been  disposed  to  make  radical  changes,  which,  later 
on,  they  might  have  found  cause  to  regret,  if  I  had 
not  been  at  Ongole.  Some  recognized  this  and  gave  me 
evidence  of  allegiance  which  I  keenly  appreciated.  In 
general  I  stood  in  the  way  of  those  who  sought  a  closer 
approach  to  American  methods  of  evangelization  and 
organization. 

Often  I  realized  that  I  could  be  proud  of  our  Telugu 
Mission.  Never  was  this  more  the  case  than  when  the 
Canadian  Baptist  Mission  north  of  us  joined  our  mis- 
sion in  a  conference  at  Ongole  in  December,  1895.  We 
took  an  afternoon  for  a  service  on  Prayer  Meeting  Hill. 
A  long  procession  of  missionaries  and  native  Christians 
walked  together  up  the  hill,  singing  hymns.  As  sunset 
drew  near,  a  cloud  hung  over  the  hill,  covered  with  rosy 
light.  It  touched  us,  as  we  stood  up  there,  praising  our 
God.  Below,  in  the  Ongole  bazaar,  the  caste  people  gath- 
ered and  watched  that  hilltop,  pointing  to  it  as  some- 
thing supernatural.  They  said,  "Their  God  is  hovering 
over  them.  Our  opposition  is  useless.  They  are  bound 
to  conquer" 


THE   END   OF   LIFE  385 

A  new  day  was  coming.  Young  men  and  women, 
trained  in  our  institutions,  were  making  themselves  felt 
with  their  fresh  strength.  They  brought  in  new  ideas, 
new  methods  and  a  new  spirit.  Western  thought  was 
pulsating  in  the  India  of  to-day,  and  touched  this 
younger  generation,  whose  parents  had  risen  from  a 
bondage  that  was  almost  serfdom.  The  leaders  of  the 
old  days",  who  had  borne  the  brunt  of  a  social  uprising 
among  their  people,  were  beginning  to  bend  under  the 
load  of  the  years.  Some  of  them  saw  their  own  sons 
taking  their  places,  educated  as  they  had  longed  to  see 
them.  The  fathers  had  not  suffered  in  a  thankless  task. 
God  had  granted  to  them  according  to  the  desires  of 
their  hearts. 

Groups  of  the  old  leaders  came  to  Ongole  during  1896 
to  tell  their  stories.  They  stood  for  the  history  of  the 
movement.  We  could  not  let  them  die,  one  after  another, 
and  take  away  with  them  the  memory  of  experiences 
which  were  their  own,  but  belonged  to  the  Christian  world 
also.  With  one  of  the  groups  of  the  old  men,  Yerra- 
guntla  Periah  journeyed  to  Ongole  once  more.  I  knew 
it  was  the  last  time.  I  loved  that  old  man.  He  had 
never  in  all  the  years  failed  me.  They  brought  him 
to  the  platform  on  Sunday  morning.  Heavy  and  almost 
helpless,  younger  men  carried  him  that  he  might  sit 
once  more  in  the  accustomed  place  of  the  Ongole 
preachers.  I  stopped  in  my  sermon  and  put  him  in  my 
own  place.  As  I  turned  to  the  congregation  again,  I 
saw  a  wondering  look  on  the  faces  of  the  younger  gen- 
eration, students  in  our  schools,  who  knew  little  of  the 
leaders  of  the  old  days.  My  heart  was  full.  I  wanted 
them  all  to  know  the  love  and  veneration  which  I  felt 
for  this  man  who  sat  there  like  a  child,  hardly  aware 
that  I  was  speaking  about  him.  I  said : 


386  SOCIAL    CHRISTIANITY   IN   THE   ORIENT 

"Do  you  want  to  know  who  this  is?  I  will  tell  you. 
When  you  get  to  heaven — and  I  hope  you  will  all  get  there 
— you  will  see  some  one  who  looks  radiant  with  light,  far 
above  you.  You  will  almost  need  a  telescope  to  see  him 
distinctly,  the  distance  between  you  and  him  will  be  so 
great.  And  you  will  ask  some  one,  'Who  is  that  man 
clothed  in  exceeding  brightness?'  Then  you  will  be  told, 
'That  man  is  Yerraguntla  Periah  from  the  Telugu  -country.' 
And  you  will  strain  your  eyes  to  behold  him." 

A  year  later  his  spirit  took  its  flight. 

During  those  years  a  railroad  was  constructed,  pass- 
ing through  much  of  the  district  which  was  once  my 
field.  We  thus  became  connected  with  the  outside  world. 
I  had  had  something  to  do  with  this  railroad.  The  in- 
tention of  the  government  had  not  been  to  make  a 
straight  line  through  from  Madras  to  Calcutta,  about 
one  thousand  miles,  but  to  make  a  detour  some  distance 
north  of  Ongole,  using  a  branch  line  already  in  exist- 
ence, somewhat  inland,  thus  breaking  the  direct  con- 
nection. I  addressed  the  Chamber  of  Commerce  in 
Madras  on  the  subject,  and  my  statements  were  then 
taken  up  by  the  daily  papers.  When  I  was  going  on» 
furlough  in  1891,  several  prominent  men  in  Madras  re- 
quested me  to  call  on  Lord  Cross  in  London,  then  Sec- 
retary of  State  for  India,  to  call  his  attention  to  the 
desirability  of  a  direct  broad  gauge  line  between  Madras 
and  Calcutta.  I  did  so.  I  called  on  him  at  the  India 
Office  in  London.  Ultimately  the  line  was  made  as  I 
advocated.  The  engineers  came  up  our  way,  surveying 
the  country  with  a  view  to  laying  the  railway  track. 
With  my  letter  to  the  Chamber  of  Commerce  in  their 
hands,  they  found  all  my  observations  correct.  They 
had  orders  to  give  me  opportunity  to  say  where  the 
railway  station  in  Ongole  should  be  located.  This  was 
a  courtesy  which  I  appreciated. 


THE  END   OF   LIFE  387 

While  the  railway  was  under  construction,  a  partial 
famine  broke  out.  A  group  of  our  preachers  came 
into  Ongole  one  day  much  disheartened  on  account  of 
the  scarcity.  Their  families  were  in  want ;  for  the  Chris- 
tians had  not  enough  to  eat  themselves,  and  could  not 
give  anything  toward  the  support  of  the  preachers.  I 
told  them  I  had  no  money  to  give  them,  that  they  must 
pray  to  God,  who  sent  the  ravens  to  feed  Elijah  in  time 
of  famine,  and  then  trust  that  same  God  to  keep  them 
from  starving.  They  went  away  with  gloomy  faces  and 
spent  a  long  time  in  prayer  together  on  the  veranda  of 
my  office.  Then  they  came  smiling  and  happy,  showing 
me  a  fish.  A  crow  had  come  flying  past  and  had  dropped 
it  among  them.  The  supposition  was  that  the  crow  had 
picked  it  out  of  a  basket  full  of  them  in  the  fish  bazaar, 
about  five  minutes'  walk  away.  But  even  then  it  was 
remarkable  that  so  small  a  bird  as  a  crow  should  have 
carried  a  fish  about  six  inches  long  in  its  beak  and 
dropped  it  right  there  among  the  group  of  praying 
preachers.  It  encouraged  them  greatly. 

The  sequel  of  it  was  that  in  1897  the  executive  engi- 
neer of  the  railroad  offered  me  a  contract  for  stacking 
450,000  cubic  feet  of  broken  stone  ballast  along  the  line. 
I  accepted,  and  later  took  a  still  larger  contract  of 
similar  work.  This  meant  that  I  once  more  had  charge 
of  a  famine  camp  with  several  thousand  people  in  it, 
while  I  lived  in  a  tent  close  by,  superintending  the  work. 
People  came  long  distances  to  my  camp,  and  the  gov- 
ernment inquired  of  me  what  I  was  doing  to  attract  so 
many  to  come,  for  relief  work  conducted  by  others  was 
not  always  popular. 

There  was  a  time  when  I  had  an  industrial  project 
much  in  mind.  It  was  a  question  in  these  latter  days, 
as  never  before,  how  to  help  our  Christians  to  help  them- 
selves. The  tendency  among  the  most  intelligent  of 


388  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY  IN   THE   ORIENT 

them  was  to  fall  into  line  as  preachers  and  teachers 
in  the  mission.  They  thus  remained  under  the  super- 
vision of  the  mission.  It  was  a  one-sided  development. 
I  had  in  mind  to  establish  a  tannery.  Our  Christians 
were  doing  their  leather  work  in  the  same  crude  fashion 
which  had  been  handed  down  to  them  from  their  an- 
cestors. I  wanted  them  to  have  a  chance  to  learn  modern 
methods,  so  that  their  work  might  command  a  sale 
beyond  the  borders  of  their  own  village.  But  nothing 
came  of  this  plan. 

The  baptisms  on  my  field  continued  about  the  same. 
When  the  last  division  of  the  field  was  made,  about 
14,000  members  left  the  Ongole  church.  We  kept  about 
8,000,  and  the  size  of  the  field  that  remained  in  my 
charge  was  about  like  an  ordinary  county  in  the  state 
of  Iowa.  Most  of  my  best  workers  had  gone  with  their 
respective  fields,  but  I  had  a  good  staff  of  preachers, 
teachers  and  Bible  women  left.  The  baptisms  were  on 
an  average  500  each  year.  This  represented  steady 
growth.  I  saw  no  occasion  to  change  my  methods.  I 
enlarged  on  them  by  letting  the  Christian  community 
govern  itself  on  the  lines  of  their  village  customs.  I 
made  much  of  the  panchayat  system — the  old  village 
council.  At  every  quarterly  meeting  I  let  the  people 
elect  the  men  who  were  to  sit  in  council  and  take  up 
their  requests  one  by  one.  The  judgment  passed  by 
them  was  generally  ratified  by  me.  It  worked  well  and 
was  a  step  in  the  direction  of  self-government.  Thus 
I  worked  in  the  old  grooves. 

Then  an  accident  befell  me.  The  Podili  station  was 
under  my  supervision  for  a  time  and  I  had  gone  there 
to  hold  a  quarterly  meeting.  After  a  hard  day's  woik, 
I  mounted  my  pony  to  go  out  into  the  open  country, 
away  from  the  people,  for  rest  in  the  cool  of  the  twi- 
light. I  had  heard  that  a  wolf  had  been  straying  about 


THE   END   OF   LIFE  389 

at  dusk.  This  wolf  now  suddenly  stood  by  the  road- 
side. My  pony  started  in  terror;  the  saddle  turned  to 
the  side ;  I  was  thrown.  No  one  had  seen  me  fall.  I  got 
up  and  walked  to  the  mission  bungalow.  Fortunately, 
I  had  not  far  to  go.  My  collar  bone  and  two  ribs  were 
broken.  I  gave  myself  only  a  few  days  for  recovery 
and  went  to  work  again.  A  stiffness  remained  which 
rendered  me  liable  to  a  second  accident. 

This  came  a  year  later.  Many  baptisms  had  been 
taking  place  on  my  field.  People  from  several  villages 
south  of  Ongole  had  sent  requests  to  me  to  come.  I  sent 
my  camp  there  and  expected  to  hold  meetings  and  then 
baptize  several  hundred  of  those  who  were  waiting.  I 
arrived  at  the  camp  very  worn  and  tired  with  the  work 
that  had  to  be  done  before  leaving  Ongole  and  exposure 
to  the  sun  on  the  way.  The  cot  in  my  tent  was  one 
of  the  tall,  folding  camp  cots,  that  stand  four  feet  from 
the  ground,  in  order  to  place  the  sleeper  above  the  reach 
of  straying  half -wild  dogs,  snakes  and  creeping  things. 
I  woke  up  in  the  middle  of  the  night,  and  in  trying  to 
get  off  the  cot,  I  stepped  on  a  chair  by  the  side  of  it. 
The  chair  slipped,  and  I  fell  heavily  upon  the  hard 
ground.  My  right  hip  was  broken. 

What  followed  I  hardly  know.  As  soon  as  I  con- 
sented, my  servants  and  the  preachers  who  were  with 
me  put  me  on  my  spring  wagon  and  took  me  the  twenty 
miles  to  Ongole.  There  now  I  began  a  fight  for  life. 
I  had  had  eight  years  in  Ongole  with  no  let-up  since  my 
last  furlough,  and  was  in  a  worn-out  condition.  Very 
likely  mine  was  not  an  easy  case  to  handle,  for  I  was 
not  accustomed  to  obey.  I  refused  to  lie  still.  I  in- 
sisted that  I  must  get  up  and  go  to  work.  I  held  out 
against  the  doctor's  order  to  go  to  America  for  recovery. 
But  days  of  pain  and  nights  of  delirium  taught  me  to 
submit. 


39°  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN   THE   ORIENT 

The  accident  happened  early  in  February,  1901.  In 
April  Mrs.  Clough  and  I  started  on  our  journey  to 
America.  On  my  cot  they  carried  me  to  the  railway 
station  in  Ongole.  Word  had  been  sent  to  the  native 
people  not  to  come :  if  they  loved  me  to  stay  away.  Sev- 
eral thousand  came  nevertheless.  They  promised  to  be 
silent  if  I  would  say  salaam  to  them.  I  was  carried  out  on 
the  veranda  and  said  good-bye.  Later,  when  on  my  cot 
I  was  carried  to  the  railway  station,  many  of  them  took 
their  sandals  into  their  hands  and  silently  followed 
through  the  still  starlit  night.  I  was  now  going  forth  on 
the  last  ten  years  of  my  life — ten  hard,  crippled  years. 

The  friends  who  had  gathered  around  us,  helping  us 
in  every  possible  way,  had  to  be  left  behind.  My 
faithful  Indian  servants,  too,  could  not  go  further  than 
Colombo.  -We  secured  the  services  of  a  young  English- 
man as  attendant,  and  proceeded  on  our  journey  half- 
way around  the  world.  As  the  hot  season  was  now  on 
us,  the  steamers  by  way  of  the  Atlantic  were  crowded; 
we  had  to  go  by  way  of  China  and  the  Pacific  Ocean. 
Upon  three  steamers  and  five  launches  I  had  to  be  car- 
ried, and  always  there  were  the  willing  hands  of  sailors 
to  lift  me,  with  ships'  officers  standing  by  to  superintend. 
In  Hong  Kong  six  Chinamen,  amid  discussion  of  the 
unusual  nature  of  their  task,  took  up  my  stretcher  and 
carried  me  to  the  hotel,  where  we  had  to  wait  five  days 
for  our  next  steamer.  We  landed  in  Vancouver,  though 
the  ship's  doctor  wondered  whether  he  was  going  to  get 
me  across  the  Pacific  alive.  Then  I  found  the  sturdy 
Canadians  said,  "What  is  the  matter  with  that  old  gen- 
tleman? Let  us  help  him,"  and  I  often  had  ten  men 
ready  in  a  moment  to  lift  me  on  or  off  a  train.  On  our 
long  journey  across  the  American  continent  a  prominent 
Baptist  professor  with  some  students  came  to  the  train. 
He  said,  "Well,  Dr.  Clough,  you  never  did  anything 


THE    END   OF   LIFE  39! 

for  anybody,  but  we  must  lift  you  on  this  train  never- 
theless." It  was  a  revelation  to  me  to  see  that  I  was 
never  beyond  the  circle  of  human  helpfulness. 

In  the  heart  of  the  Canadian  Rocky  Mountains  there 
is  a  beautiful  place,  Banff,  with  a  good  sanitarium.  It 
was  on  our  way.  We  stopped  to  break  the  journey,  and 
then  stayed  four  months.  Here  I  did  some  deep  down 
resting.  I  took  comfort  in  watching  the  huge,  snow- 
capped mountains  from  my  window.  There  was  no 
humbug  about  them.  When  I  tried  to  talk  of  my  recent 
experiences — plucked  out  of  intense  activity  and  reduced 
to  helplessness — I  was  choked  with  tears.  Why  had 
this  come  upon  me?  It  was  while  I  was  trying  to  do 
my  duty.  But  Jesus  makes  no  mistakes.  I  submitted 
in  patience. 

My  old  friend  and  pastor,  Dr.  G.  J.  Johnson,  who 
baptized  me  forty-three  years  before,  now  came  to 
see  me.  After  many  years  of  faithful  friendship,  linger- 
ing not  far  from  the  other  side,  he  felt  that  he  must 
see  his  "son  in  the  faith"  before  he  passed  away.  He 
came  from  St.  Louis,  traveling  three  days  and  nights,  his 
daughter  accompanying  him,  and  they  stayed  with  us 
a  month.  The  genial  surgeon  of  the  sanitarium  re- 
marked that  I  was  more  "subdued  and  submissive"  since 
Dr.  Johnson  had  come,  and  I  admitted  that  I  felt  like  a 
boy  alongside  of  the  doctor.  It  did  me  good  to  feel  that 
way.  We  talked  much  of  old  times,  and  told  each 
other  old-time  stories. 

We  stayed  in  America  eighteen  months.  I  visited 
my  children,  and  saw  relatives  and  old  friends  again.  I 
attended  the  Anniversaries,  but  I  saw  that  my  days  of 
public  work  were  over.  With  some  help  I  could  walk 
a  little,  but  I  remained  helpless  to  a  large  degree.  Our 
secretaries  and  the  Executive  Committee  were  very  con- 
siderate and  generous  to  me,  and  when  I  now  asked  to 


392  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN   THE   ORIENT 

be  sent  back  to  my  old  place  in  India,  they  told  me  I 
should  be  cared  for,  whether  I  did  any  more  work  or 
not,  whether  I  remained  in  America  or  went  back  to 
Ongole.  My  heart  was  in  India ;  I  wanted  my  old  work 
again.  We  sailed  in  October,  1902. 

On  arrival  in  Ongole  I  was  met  by  the  same  great 
crowd  of  people  that  always  met  me  after  a  furlough. 
They  were  glad  I  was  back  in  the  old  bungalow.  For  two 
and  a  half  years  I  held  out,  in  the  old  grooves,  carried 
along  by  the  impetus  of  the  past.  It  was  hard  work. 
I  could  not  keep  it  up.  My  strength  was  failing.  We 
had  to  seek  a  cooler  climate  in  one  of  the  hill  stations  not 
far  away.  Sickness  nigh  unto  death  showed  me  that 
even  a  portion  of  my  former  work  was  henceforth  out 
of  the  question.  I  retired  from  active  service  in  1905. 

Life  away  from  Ongole  was  hard  to  bear.  I  longed 
for  the  accustomed  surroundings.  But  I  had  to  wait; 
for  at  just  about  the  time  when  I  was  beginning  to  break 
down,  it  looked  as  though  my  old  bungalow  also  would 
fall  into  ruin.  The  old  house  and  I  had  seen  great 
days  together,  and  now  it  looked  as  if  we  were  tumbling 
down  together.  It  was  rebuilt,  and  then  we  went  to  live 
in  it  again.  I  soon  found  that  my  being  there  could 
not  bring  back  the  past.  In  my  thoughts  I  had  been 
living  in  the  old  days,  when  my  compound  was  the  center 
of  activities  reaching  over  portions  of  several  districts, 
and  thousands  of  Telugu  people  were  glad  when  they 
knew  I  was  at  my  post.  But  these  days  were  gone. 
Even  before  the  hot  season  was  on  us,  I  was  ready  and 
glad  to  go  to  Coonoor  on  the  Nilgiri  Hills,  where  it 
would  be  cool  and  quiet. 

Then  the  question  came  up  about  the  story  of  my 
life,  for  which  Mrs.  Clough  and  I  had  been  collecting 
the  material.  If  this  was  to  be  written  while  I  was 
still  there  to  help,  it  could  not  be  put  off  much  longer. 


THE   END   OF   LIFE  393 

I  had  often  been  asked  to  write  this  story,  but  while  I 
was  still  in  the  work  I  was  too  busy.  After  my  retire- 
ment it  was  too  late — I  could  not  write  any  more.  We 
all  looked  to  Mrs.  Clough  to  do  it.  She  wrote  several 
chapters  and  then  she  came  to  me  and  told  me  the 
difficulties  were  too  great,  that  I  must  release  her  from 
the  task.  This  I  could  not  do.  I  wanted  her  to  write 
the  book.  Finally  she  said,  "There  is  only  one  way 
in  which  it  can  be  written:  you  must  tell  your  story 
yourself.  In  that  case  I  am  willing  to  do  the  work 
for  you."  I  hesitated;  for  I  feared  that  in  such  joint 
authorship  I  might  no  longer  be  equal  to  my  part.  But 
I  saw  that  she  believed  it  could  be  done.  I  asked  her 
to  go  ahead  and  I  would  do  all  in  my  power  to  help  her. 

I  soon  saw  that  this  worked  well.  It  often  encouraged 
me  to  find  that  where  it  was  a  question  of  the  deeper  mo- 
tives of  my  work,  I  could  answer  for  myself  better  than 
I  could  have  done  when  still  in  my  prime.  That  strange 
thread  of  happenings  that  ran  through  my  life  with  an 
overruling  destiny,  seemed  clearer  than  ever  before.  Dur- 
ing my  years  of  retirement  I  had  not  been  idle:  I  had 
kept  up  a  steady  thinking,  and  my  life  had  become  far  re- 
moved from  me.  I  saw  my  failures,  and  saw  the  places 
where  my  expectations  did  not  come  to  pass.  As  we 
talked  it  all  over,  I  realized  that  we  were  setting  forth  as- 
pects of  this  story  which  had  never  been  brought  out  be- 
fore. I  saw  that  it  was  going  to  be  just  such  a  book  as  I 
had  had  in  mind. 

It  was  a  strange  experience  to  me  thus  to  come  face 
to  face  with  my  past.  I  had  never  before  realized  to 
how  great  a  degree  I  was  led  in  ways  which  were  not 
of  my  choosing.  In  the  earlier  portions  of  the  story  I 
sometimes  felt  almost  as  if  a  sort  of  violence  had  been 
done  me :  my  own  schemes  were  always  thwarted,  I  was 
always  going  where  I  did  not  want  to  go.  At  times 


394  SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN   THE   ORIENT 

I  felt  dazed,  and  had  to  readjust  myself,  and  tell  myself 
that  Jesus  makes  no  mistakes.  But,  as  I  thought  of 
the  Telugu  Mission,  as  I  was  leaving  it,  with  its  100 
missionaries,  60,000  members  and  200,000  adherents, 
and  all  its  schools — it  is  the  very  mission  which  I  wanted 
when  I  first  went  to  India.  God  had  fulfilled  my  hopes. 

When  this  book  was  so  far  finished  that  I  saw  the 
rest  could  be  done  without  me,  I  realized  that  the  next 
step  for  me  to  take  was  to  leave  India.  Mrs.  Clough 
had  been  under  doctor's  orders  for  the  past  two  years 
to  go  home  to  America,  but  she  had  steadily  refused 
to  go  and  leave  me  behind;  nor  had  I  any  wish  to  be 
left  behind.  I  could  not  allow  her  to  run  further  risk.  I 
said :  "I  am  going.  Engage  passage  as  soon  as  possible." 

This  meant  that  I  could  not  die  in  India,  and  I  could 
not  have  my  grave  in  Ongole.  I  had  the  place  selected 
in  our  cemetery  there.  But  I  had  of  late  been  told  re- 
peatedly that  almost  any  other  place,  even  the  ocean, 
would  be  a  better  place  for  my  grave.  I  would  not 
believe  this.  They  said  the  native  Christians,  and  others 
also,  over  all  that  seven  thousand  square  miles  which  was 
my  tramping  ground  in  the  old  days,  were  not  even 
waiting  till  I  was  dead;  they  had  already  begun  to  use 
my  name  in  the  various  rites  and  incantations  which  are 
so  prevalent  in  India.  It  was  said  that  when  they  were 
digging  a  well,  and  did  not  strike  water,  the  village 
elders  boiled  rice  near  the  well,  each  took  a  handful,  and 
holding  it  over  the  well,  thinking  of  me,  they  together 
spoke  my  name,  dropped  the  rice,  and  it  was  said  "the 
water  came  immediately."  Thus  they  had  already  begun 
to  do  when  plowing  their  fields,  when  tending  their 
cattle,  and  in  more  ways  than  was  known.  I  can  only 
say,  I  am  sorry  they  are  doing  that  way.  I  always 
taught  them  not  to  do  such  things  and  they  are  thus 
setting  aside  my  teaching.  I  know  my  hands  were  open 


THE   END   OF   LIFE 

to  help  them.  They  seem  to  be  trying  thus  to  make 
me  help  them  still. 

But  I  had  held  to  it,  that  no  one  would  interfere  with 
my  grave.  Then  they  told  me  that  an  old  missionary 
south  of  us,  who  had  really  loved  the  people  as  I  had 
done,  died  and  was  buried  among  them.  His  grave  was 
kept  covered  with  marks  of  worship,  and  signs  that 
prayers  for  help  had  been  offered.  His  friends  built  a 
high  wall  around  it,  and  then  the  worship  was  conducted 
outside  the  wall.  They  told  me  also  of  a  missionary 
north  of  us,  whose  remains  had  to  be  removed  to  some 
silent,  peaceful  spot,  of  which  only  a  few  knew.  Think- 
ing this  over  in  all  its  bearings,  I  had  .already  begun  to 
keep  still  about  that  grave  in  Ongole.  If  it  stood  for 
something  in  my  life,  which,  like  many  another  intention 
and  expectation  of  mine,  belonged  to  that  which  "was 
not  to  be,"  then  the  sooner  I  let  it  go  the  better. 

Very  reluctantly  I  set  my  face  toward  sailing  for 
America.  My  work  in  India  is  done.  Soon  I  shall  meet 
my  Master,  Jesus,  face  to  face,  to  whom  I  led  so  many 
thousands  of  the  poor  and  ignorant  and  despised.  When 
that  time  comes,  may  it  be  my  joy  to  find  in  the  light  of 
his  countenance  the  assurance  that  the  purpose  is  fulfilled 
for  which  I  was  brought  into  life. 


We  undertook  that  voyage  with  the  greatest  hesitation. 
Neither  my  husband  nor  I  wanted  to  go,  yet  the  doors 
opened  before  us,  and  there  was  nothing  to  do  but  walk 
through  them.  Loving  interest  was  shown  us  in  leaving 
India,  and  help  in  abundance  was  awaiting  us  when  we 
landed  in  Boston.  We  settled  in  Rochester,  New  York, 
which  is  only  forty  miles  away  from  the  place  of  his 
birth. 

The  months  passed.     He  seemed  at  least  to  hold  his 


SOCIAL   CHRISTIANITY   IN   THE   ORIENT 

own,  and  spoke  sometimes  of  returning  to  India.  But 
a  change  came.  He  realized  that  the  end  was  near.  At 
twilight  one  evening,  he  said,  "I  am  thinking  of  the  will 
of  God."  He  saw  that  he  was  understood.  Long  ago 
he  said  that  when  he  came  to  die  there  would  be  no  good- 
bye and  no  farewell  message:  "I  am  going  to  die  and 
say  nothing  about  it."  He  carried  this  out. 

A  friend  of  former  years  came  and  offered  Christian 
consolation.  He  appreciated  the  sympathy  that  breathed 
through  the  prayer,  but  the  friend  said  afterwards,  "Like 
some  great  oriental  he  meant  to  go  and  meet  his  God  in 
his  own  way.  He  wanted  the  prayer  of  no  man." 

Early  the  last  morning  of  his  conscious  life  he  spoke 
in  a  few  brief  sentences  of  the  past,  intimating  that  he 
had  scanned  his  life,  and  pronounced  judgment  on  him- 
self. He  wanted  no  reply :  he  only  wanted  to  be  under- 
stood. 

His  spirit  held  him  to  the  last  in  the  calm  faith  and 
childlike  trust  that  always  marked  him.  He  died  un- 
afraid. Very  weary  he  was,  but  his  eyes  were  calm  and 
fearless  till  they  closed,  as  if  to  go  to  sleep,  and  he 
sank  into  long  unconsciousness.  In  an  atmosphere  of 
great  peace,  a  serene  look  coming  over  his  face,  he 
breathed  his  life  away,  still  unconscious,  when  the  sun 
was  rising  on  the  morning  of  Thanksgiving  Day,  Novem- 
ber 24,  1910. 

Since  the  grave  in  Ongole  was  not  to  be,  it  was  his 
wish  to  be  buried  in  Newton  Center,  a  suburb  of  Boston. 
In  its  beautiful  cemetery  the  society  which  he  served  had 
bought  ground  to  bury  its  dead.  Here  now  he  was 
gathered  unto  his  fathers  in  a  spiritual  sense.  In  this 
cemetery,  long  before,  Dr.  Warren  was  laid  to  rest, — his 
chief,  the  man  of  whom  he  used  to  say  that  a  father 
could  not  have  been  more  to  his  own  son  than  he  was 
to  him.  Here  was  Dr.  Jewett's  resting-place,  with  whom 


THE   END   OF   LIFE  397 

he  was  sent  forty-six  years  before  "to  give  him  Christian 
burial  in  a  heathen  land."  The  order  was  reversed.  He 
had  now  come  to  receive  Christian  burial  close  to  Dr. 
Jewett.  And  here,  only  a  narrow  path  between  them, 
was  the  grave  of  Dr.  S.  F.  Smith,  whose  song,  "Shine 
on,  Lone  Star,"  had  contained  a  prophecy,  which  the 
body  now  laid  to  rest  had  worked  strenuously  to  fulfill. 
Both  in  Rochester  and  in  Newton  Center  there  were 
services  in  which  men  participated  who  were  bound  to 
him  by  ties  of  fellowship  in  work.  A  cable  message 
took  the  tidings  to  India.  Once  more  religious  and 
secular  papers  rehearsed  the  story  of  the  work  with  which 
his  life  was  knit  together.  There  is  peace  where  his  body 
lies,  peace  unbroken  by  incantations  aiming  at  material 
benefits.  There  is  joy  where  his  spirit  went,  and  the 
continuation  of  this  story  may  now  be  proceeding  in  the 
language  of  the  heaven  world.  Inscribed  over  his  grave 
is  his  favorite  verse : 

"Be  still  and  know  that  I  am  God." 


GLOSSARY 

BRAHMANS,  THE — The  aristocracy  of  learning  in  India,  of  Indo- 
Aryan  descent. 

DHORA — A  white  man;  equivalent  for  Mister. 

GURU — A  religious  teacher. 

JUTTU — The  sacred  top-knot  of  hair  on  a  man's  head. 

KARNAM — The  village  accountant,  generally  a  Brahman. 

MADIGAS,  THE — The  leather  workers  of  the  Telugu  country,  of 
tribal  origin,  forming  more  than  one-half  of  the  Pariah  popu- 
lation. 

MANTRA — A  prayer,  holy  verse,  or  mystic  word. 

MUNSIFF — The  headman  of  the  ancient  Dravidian  village  organiza- 
tion. 

PANCHAMA — Fifth  caste — the  recently  created  caste  name  of  the 
Pariahs. 

PANCHAYAT — The  council  of  five  village  elders. 

PARIAHS,  THE — The  submerged  portion  of  the  Hindu  community, 
outside  the  caste  system,  held  in  menial  service. 

RUPEE — A  silver  coin  worth  about  thirty  cents. 

SALAAM — Peace — an  oriental  gesture  of  salutation. 

SUDRAS,  THE — Landowners  and  artisans,  of  Dravidian  race,  forming 
the  bulk  of  South  Indian  population. 

TAHSILDAR — A  subjudge  for  criminal  cases. 

TALUK — A  county,  about  30  miles  square. 

TELUGUS,  THE — A  South  Indian  people,  about  20,000,000  in  number, 
living  in  the  northern  part  of  the  Madras  Presidency. 

YETTI — A  Madiga  who  carries  loads  for  the  village. 

YOGA — The  experimental  union  of  the  individual  with  the  divine. 
There  are  four  paths  of  Yoga,  of  which  Raja  Yoga  is  one.  It 
is  the  psychological  way  to  union  through  the  practice  of  con- 
centration. 

YOGI,  THE — One  who  practices  Yoga. 


399 


SUBJECT    INDEX 


AN  EASTERN  PEOPLE 
The  Brahmans 

— The  Aryan  origin  of,  127,  168,  198 

— upholding  the  caste  system,  83,  120,  124-5,  I28,  321-2 

— showing  exclusiveness  in  education,  119-20,  122,  331,  375 

— when  intolerant  in  religion,  84,  152,  157,  168,  171,  198 

— Attitude  of,  toward  the  outcaste  population,  84,  112,  126, 

152,  157,  168,  174,  321-2 
— Power  of,  in  opposing  Christianity,  84,  no,  122,  152,  157, 

170,  173,  186,  198,  212,  321 

The  Sudras 

— The  Dravidian  origin  of,  127,  162,  168,  174,  191 

— as  the  farmers  of  the  community,  127,  162,  238,  258 

— as  the  employers  of  the  Madigas,  127,  161,  166,  168,  178, 

323,  345,  352 
— and  the   Christianization  of  the  Madigas,  163,   168,   174, 

178,  321 
— themselves  holding  aloof  from  Christianity,  165,  267,  321, 

354 
The  Madigas 

— The  tribal  origin  and  characteristics  of,  84,  127,  191,  225, 

282 

—The  poverty  of,  114,  139,  164-5,  238,  264,  352-4 
— performing  menial  service,  128,  164 
— degraded  by  carrion  eating,  126,  163-6,  283,  318 
— as  outcastes  in  the  community,  84,  87,  113,  117,  126,  128, 

164,  241,  321 
— oppressed   by   the   village   cooperative   system,    161,    163, 

168,  171 
— fearing  and  appeasing  their  village  gods,  93,  139,  148,  167, 

248,  265,  319 
— responding  to  the  Christian  appeal,  103,  128,  137,  144,  147, 

161,  290,  299 
— seeking    social    betterment   by   education,   117,    191,   322, 

352-3,  376 
— uniting  in  a  social  revolution,  154,  156,  159,  161,  168,  176, 

184,  322 
—The  primitive  self-administration  of,  Christianized,  191-3, 

195,  241,  247,  263,  275,  343-5 
— forming  a  Christian  community,  102,  156,   184,  290,  316, 

335,  343,  371,  394 

4OI 


4O2  SUBJECT   INDEX 

A  WESTERN  PEOPLE 

American  Activities 

— in  forming  contacts  with  Asiatics,  73,  in,  187,  201-8,  365, 

373 
— in  giving  money  for  Christianization,  117,  217,  350,  353, 

375 
— in  applying  democratic  principles,  in,  118,  132,  159,  169, 

176,  214,  269,  321 
— in  adapting  Western  forms  of  Christianity  to  the  East, 

186-8,  194-5,  213-4,  329,  332,  34i,  38o 
— in  modifying  methods  of  evangelization,  77,  79,  188,  193, 

195,  329,  345,  38o,  384 
— in  adjusting  Western  ideas  to  the  East,  in,  159-2,  177, 

185,  202,  239,  322,  332,  343 

— and  national  traits  affecting  missions,  296,  372 
— and  Americans  compared  with  Asiatics,  73,  126,  165,  169, 

198 

British  Rule 

— Democratic  spirit  of,  157,  169,  177,  241,  249 

— Liberal  educational  policy  in,  118,  123 

— Religious  toleration  under,  84,  119,  168,  174,  323-4 

— Legal  equality  granted  by,  108,  169,   171 

— Social  amelioration  of  the  outcaste  in,  108,  128,  169 

— a  disintegrating  force  in  the  Indian  village,  112,  160 

THE  MISSIONARY  ENTERPRISE 

The  Denomination 

— recognizing  its  obligation,  200,  222,  225,  368,  375 
— receiving  the  converts  into  fellowship,  213-5,  273,  308 
— sustaining  a  mass  movement,  134,  271,  295,  301-2 
— guarding  its  tenets,  214,  297,  299,  306-8,  335,  341,  379 
— roused  to  action,  298,  304,  369-70,  372-6 

The  Home  Churches 

— and  the  non- Christian  world,  73,  293,  308,  366 

— Contacts  with  missions  formed  by,  219,  294,  208,  347,  350, 

365 
— Pastors  of,  and  their  missionary  policy,  210-20,  292,  294, 

368-9 

— Business  men  in,  and  their  capacity  applied,  301-2,  366 
— Responsibility  for  reenforcement  carried  by,  200,  223,  295, 

298,  368 
— Definite  response  from,  217-9,  298 


SUBJECT   INDEX  403 

The  Missionary  Society 

— officers  of,  as  trustees  of  the  denomination,  214  292,  297-8 
— in  cooperation  with  the  home  churches,  200,  216,  294,  298, 

372 
— and  its  policy  of  self-support  on  the  foreign  field,  350, 

353-5 

— and  the  problem  of  education,  116,  122,  330-1,  376 
— Attitude  of,  toward  church  organization,  214,  341,  379-81, 

384 

— and  sending  out  missionaries,  201,  218,  295,  348,  374 
— and  occupying  new  ground,  64,  89,  225-31,  234-6,  378 
— and  adjustment  to  oriental  conditions,  297,  354,  366 
— upholding  events  on  the  foreign  field,  214,  291,  296-9 
— meeting  demands  for  a  larger  policy,  116,  366,  369-70,  375 
— in  relation  with  other  societies,  62,  86,  97,  235-6,  305-6, 

327,  350,  356,  366-7,  374 
Missionary  Policy 

— toward  class  distinction,  84,  113,  122,  132,  169,  199,  321-2, 

33i,  375 

— in  educating  orientals,  116,  122,  330-1,  375-6 
— in   occupying    strategic   centers,    61,    88-9,    225-6,    229-30, 

234-6,  327,  378 

— toward  native  agency,  121,  187,  190,  332 
— toward  mass  movements,  214-5,  263,  267,  297,  305-8 
— in  forming  methods,  106,  188,  193,  202,  328,  331,  346,  354-6 
— in  following  the  policy  of  the  State,  87,  349 
— in  requiring  statesmanship  from  leading  men,  236,  292,  376 
— in  relationships  between   religious   organizations,  62,  86, 

97,  235-6,  273-4,  30i,  305-8,  366-7 

— calling  forth  definite  acts  of  faith  in  God,  101,  115,  132, 
213,  230,  272,  281,  286,  307,  328 

The  Student  Volunteer  Movement 
— The  beginning  of,  367 

— an  interdenominational  recruiting  agency,  367 
— backed  by  enthusiasm  in  the  churches,  368 
— found  ready  to  meet  definite  demands,  218,  373 

Bible  Passages 

—in  tract  form,  77-8,  88,  267 

— voicing  command,  133-5 

— in  missionary  experience,  45,  206,  208,  248,  279,  310 

A  Belief  in  the  Doctrine  of  Election 

— in  individual  experience,  58,  129,  176 
— as  a  basis  for  the  missionary  enterprise,  81,  86,  132,  206, 
321 


404  SUBJECT   INDEX 

The  Principle  of  the  Brotherhood  of  Man 
— applied  in  times  of  famine,  239,  249 

— when  facing  the  degradation  of  the  outcaste,  126,  241,  249 
— Eastern  and  Western  ideas  of,  compared,  239,  249,  262 
— Interracial  application  of,  254,  256,  299 

Prophetic  Vision 

— when  the  "Lone  Star"  poem  was  written,  65,  300 

— An  audience  swayed  by,  66,  300,  368,  372 

— A  mission  saved  through,  63,  66,  222,  300,  372 

— on  "Prayer  Meeting  Hill,"  70,  85,  90,  129,  300,  309,  384 

— in  expecting  a  multitude,  81,  82,  103,  107,  135,  137,  230,  235, 

271-2,  290 

— in  staking  boundary  lines,  61,  67,  89,  230 
— concerning  the  call  of  men  to  service,  69,  103-4 
— in  applying  New  Testament  methods,  80,  214,  308,  341 
— in  working  for  the  redemption  of  a  community,  128,  135, 

209,  290,  331,  385 

THE  HINDU  RELIGION 

The  Polytheism  of  Village  Worship 

— a  mixture  of  Aryan  and  non-Aryan  cults,  93,  150,  168 
— Demonology  given  a  large  part  in,  151,  155,  167,  205,  225, 

248,  265 

— Mother-worship  prominent  in,  93,  148,  150,  170,  322 
— largely  actuated  by  fear,  intended  to  appease,   155,   167, 

205,  248,  265 

— forming  part  of  the  cooperative  system,  152,  167-8 
— The  Madiga  part  in,  a  duty  to  the  community,  151-2,  160, 

167,  170,  265 
— Consequences  of  disengaging  from,  151-4,  161,  170-2,  266, 

323 
— The  idols  as  emblems  of,  given  up,  77,  168,  182,  266,  288, 

319 

The  Teachers  of  Raja  Yoga 

— as  part  of  a  hierarchy  with  power  of  initiation,  93-4,  100 
— of  pure  type  seldom  available  to  the  outcaste,  95,  104 
— giving  out  truths  similar  to  Christian  teaching,  93-5,  1402, 

145,  160 
— forming  a  transition  to  the  Christian  preacher,  94,  100, 

106,  142-3,  188,  194,  197,  360 

Hindu  Religious  Reform  Movements 
— The  nature  of,  93-4,  140 
— gathering  around  the  personality  of  a  Yogi,  94  140-2,  224 


SUBJECT   INDEX 

Hindu  Religious  Reform  Movements — Continued 

— based  on  training  in  Yoga,  04,  141 

— guarding  the  inner  teaching  by  initiations,  04,  140-1,  197 

— of  social  significance  by  opposing  caste  and  idolatry,  94, 

140-1 
— training  the  men  who  became  Christian  leaders,  94,  100, 

106,  145,  188,  194,  197,  285,  360 
— preparing  the  way  for  the  Christian  movement,  101,  141-2, 

146,  224 

THE  CHRISTIAN  RELIGION 
Conversion 

—The  nature  of,  137,  139,  275,  283 

— Outward  evidence  of,  87,  138-9,  282-3,  3*o 

— and  Christian  teaching,  88,  146,  154,  157,  283,  350 

— Definite  instances  of,  76,  83,  87,  98,  142-3,  178-82 

— when  there  is  a  mass  movement,  147,  158,  215,  224,  249, 

264,  276,  283,  299,  306 
— as  cause  of  contest  in  the  family,  83,  97,  129,  147-9,  l77-&> 

181-3 

— and  persecution  in  the  village,  77,  108,  152-4,  170,  323 
— calling  for  readjustment  in  communal  life,  156,  159,  160, 

177,  319 
— as  an  abiding  faith  in  Jesus  Christ,  35,  283,  317,  381 

Baptism 

— regarded  as  defilement  by  the  Hindus,  83,  130,  323 

— preceded  by  conversion  and  Christian  teaching,  102,  157, 

276,  283 

—The  people  begging  for,  158,  263,  268,  279,  287,  319 
— Motive  in  asking  for,  264  267,  278,  290,  363 
— Reason  for  not  granting,  263,  267,  283 
— of  hundreds,  136,  158,  214,  284,  289,  359,  362 
— of  thousands,  267,  276,  286,  289,  296,  301,  319,  363 

Oriental  Churches 

— when  of  natural  growth,   189,  332 

— beginning  as  Christian  centers,  99,  101,  114,  185,  191,  233, 

332 

— built  upon  village  organization,  189-00,  319,  341,  355,  379 
— utilizing  the  office  of   elders  and  panchayat,  191-3,  319, 

343-6,  388 
— as  churches  in  the  New  Testament  sense,  101,  195,  206, 

214,  335,  34i,  380 


4O6  SUBJECT   INDEX 

The  Christian  Preacher 

— adapting  his  methods  to  communal  life,  144-5,  147,  189 

— retaining  traits  of  the  Hindu  Guru,  100,  105-6,  188,  194 

— Christian  training  required  by,  115,  186-7,  200 

— Ordination  of,  to  the  ministry,  194,  332-4 

— Relation  of,  to  the  missionary,  92,  98,   187-8,  207,  210-3, 

223,  279,  285,  339,  361,  379,  383 

— as  spokesman  of  the  people,  92,  241,  276,  280,  287,  345 
— affected  by  village  organization,  195,  281,  345 
— helping  to  evolve  missionary  methods,  92,  106,  280,  379 
— learning  Western  church  organization,  186,  193-5,  334,  341 
—obtaining  support  from  the  members,  106,  238,  261,  335, 

355 
— and  his  attitude  toward  baptism,  99,  212,  268,  276,  280,  284, 

287,  362 
— as  part  of  a  continuity  of  management,  90,  195-7,  224,  247, 

332,  360,  379,  385 

THE  CONTACT  BETWEEN  Two  RELIGIONS 

Missionary  Methods 

— the  spiritual  motive  for,  80,  209 

—compared,  74,  78,  80,  203,  326 

— in  efforts  at  temple  festivals,  78 

— in  bazaar  preaching,  75,  77,  no,  198 

— in  direct  village  evangelization,  102,  108,  224,  316-20,  343-6 

— in  training  and  sustaining  native  agency,  113,  185-8,  196, 

227,  332-4 
— in  educating  Christians  and  non-Christians,  117,  122,  330-1, 

375-6 
— in  church  organization,  101,  193-5,  213,  233,  332-5,  341,  346, 

379-Si 

— in  mass  movements,  136,  160,  185,  215,  224,  282-3,  286,  305-8 
— in  seeking  financial  solution  by  self-support,  106,  108,  238, 
>  261,  352-7 

— in  mingling  the  spiritual  and  temporal,  248,  269,  301,  317, 

340,  345,  351-3 
—in  recognizing  the  institutions  of  village  life,  189,  192,  204, 

225,  275,  282,  316,  343-6,  355 
— dictated  by  circumstances,  101,  132,  144,  230,  246,  268,  287, 

307,  328,  346,  356,  380 
— adapted  to  oriental  conditions,  146,  187-8,  192,  195,  201-6, 

275,  282,  308,  316,  343-6,  355,  380 

— when  West  and  East  clash,  120,  155,  160,  172,  198,  322 
— when  denominational  tenets  break  down,  193,  206-7,  273, 

297,  306-8,  329,  335,  341,  346,  380 


SUBJECT   INDEX  407 

Opposition  to  Christianity 

— because  the  vengeance  of  the  village  gods  is  feared,  107, 
149,  170 

— because  it  affects  the  solidarity  of  the  family,  97,  129,  166, 
177-8,  183 

— because  its  principles  break  down  the  village  system,  160, 
169 

— because  the  village  officials  are  forced  to  make  adjust- 
ments, 152,  168,  320 

— by  threats,  false  rumors  and  arguments,  129,  178,  198 

— by  stoning,  beating  and  imprisonment,  no,  152-4,  179,  198 

— by  boycotting  through  the  cooperative  system,  162,  171, 
173,  322-5 

— by  coercive  attempts  to  uphold  the  old  worship,  84,  108, 
152,  170,  323 

— found  to  be  of  remarkable  tenacity,  in,  198,  267,  321 

A  Christian  Mass  Movement 

— The  principles  of,  80,  160,  215,  290 

— going  on  lines  of  family  cohesion,  145,  189,  224,  247,  282, 

290,  319 
—aided  by  tribal  spirit,  99,  123,  136,  145,  224,  282,  290,  306, 

320-1 
— affected  by  village  organization,  168,  189,  191-3,  204,  263, 

275,  282,  319,  343-6 
— given  the  character  of  a  social  uprising,  160,  168,  192,  225, 

209,  318 
— absorbing  strength  from  preceding  Hindu  movements,  94, 

96,  101,  141-2,  145,  197,  224 
— Distinct  religious   experience   evident  in,   93,   104,   142-3, 

225,  249,  264 
— going  beyond  lines  of  denominational  policy,  214-5,  297> 

305-8,  329,  342,  346 

— due  to  New  Testament  methods,  80,  134,  215,  308,  335,  380 
— not    essentially   affected   by    Western   organization,    185, 

193-5,  336,  34i,  346,  355,  379-8i 
— depending  on  a  continuity  of  leadership,  96,   186,  195-7, 

247,  285,  327,  332,  360,  379,  383,  385 
— growing  through  faith  in  the  spiritual  presence  of  Jesus, 

107,  137,  156,  163,  186,  208,  215,  248,  274,  286,  290 

THE  RESULT 
Education 

— in  village  schools,  114,  191,  276,  318,  330 

— in  station  schools,  118,  330 

— in  high  schools  and  colleges,  121,  330-1,  375-6 


408  SUBJECT   INDEX 

Education — Continued 

— Problem  of,  for  non-Christians,  122,  330-1,  375-6 

— in  training  native  agency,  114,  186-9,   194-5,  207,  227,  360 

— in  relation  to  self-support,  350-4 

— Social  betterment  effected  by,   117,   191,  302,  318,  352-3, 

375-6 

— demanded  by  the  converts,  191,  297,  318,  353,  361 
— Attitude  of  the  Home  Base  toward,  116,  214,  217,  219,  296, 

33i,  353,  375-6 
The  Status  of  the  Women 

— when  standing  with  the  men  in  the  new  life,  107,  114,  156, 

181,  191,  227 

— when  opposed  to  Christianity,  166,  177-8,  183 
— giving  up  their  sons  to  become  preachers,  104,  114,  179 
— seeking  an  education  with  the  men,  114,  191 
— keeping  step  with  social  betterment,  166,  191 
— giving  their  services  to  the  mission,  107-8,  179,  190-1,  225 
— suffering  persecution  for  Jesus'  sake,  179 

Church  Organisation 

— an  unsolved  problem,  193,  341,  346,  379-81 

— as  viewed  by  the  home  churches,  213,  379 

— made  secondary  in  missionary  efforts,  213,  346,  380 

— whether  adapted   to   Eastern  communities,    186-7,    193-5, 

335,  344-6,  379 

— Attempts  at,  partially  successful,  193,  335,  341,  346,  380 
— and  self-support  on  communal  lines,  106,  238,  261,  336, 355 
— Definite  instances  of,  102,  193,  233,  332,  334-5 

Social  Betterment 

— a  legitimate  aim  in  missionary  endeavor,  128,  262,  301,  350, 

353-4,  375,  380 
— through  education  received  in  the  Mission,  117,  191,  297, 

302,  318,  352-4,  36i,  376 
— by  withdrawal  from  low  forms  of  worship,  150,  168,  171, 

319 

— by  demanding  a  new  basis   for  cooperative  labor,   152, 

161-3,  166-8 
— by  a  united  stand  against  village  oppression,  154,  164,  172, 

325 

— by  obtaining  proof  of  equality  in  legal  status,  108,  171 
— by  raising  the  social  status,  117,  128,  166,  191,  249,  318 
— by  relief  when  sick,  starving  or  oppressed,  243,  249,  350 
— by  Christianizing  the  communal  life,  79,  99,  186,  190,  204-5, 

299,  317 

— by  finding  in  devotion  to  Jesus  a  new  motive,  156,  249, 
262,  284,  317,  353-4,  357 


SUBJECT   INDEX  409 

New  Testament  Times  Repeated 

— by  sending  forth  men  to  convert  the  Gentiles,  222 

— by  letting  the  "common  people"  come,  113,  134,  166,  169, 

199,  290 
— by  establishing  Christian  centers,  101,  189,  233,  335,  341, 

346,  380 

— by  receiving  definite  command,  133-5 
— by  conflict  between  the  old  order  and  the  new,  144,  154, 

169,  299,  322 
— by  suffering  for  Jesus'  sake,  108,   144,  152-4,  156-7,   172, 

179,  184,  265-6,  325 
— by  Pentecostal  baptism,  82,  102,  280,  284-6,  301,  363 


T 


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"  We  warmly  welcome  this  very  useful  and  interesting  series  of 
Foreign  Missionary  studies.  The  writer  for  each  field  has  been 
carefully  selected,  and  the  facts  are  set  out  with  skill  and  fresh- 
ness." —  Methodist  Recorder. 


The  Beginnings  of  Missions 

BY  LOUISE  M.  HODGKINS 
VIA  CHRISTI 

"  Taken  as  a  whole  the  work  is  well  done.  ...  A  very  inter- 
esting and  instructive  introduction  to  the  study  of  Christian  Mis- 
sions." —  Guardian. 


UNITED  STUDY  OF  MISSIONS  SERIES  —  Continued 


India  —  A  Twilight  Land 

BY  CAROLINE  A.  MASON 
LUX  CHRISTI 

"  Invaluable  and  almost  indispensable  as  a  guide-book  for  the 
study  of  a  great  and  interesting  subject."  —  C.  E.  SCHAFFER  in 
The  Reformed  Church  Review. 

Missions  and  Social  Progress 

BY  ANNA  R.  B.  LINDSAY 
GLORIA  CHRISTI 

A  summing  up  of  progress  made  in  non-Christian  lands. 

China 

BY  ARTHUR  H.  SMITH 

REX  CHRISTUS 

"A  well-informed  and  valuable  sketch  on  a  large  subject." — 
Scotsman. 

Japan 

BY  WILLIAM  ELLIOTT  GRIFFIS 
DUX  CHRISTUS 

"  It  is  a  model  of  what  such  a  manual  should  be  —  systematic, 
well-proportioned,  highly  suggestive,  and  above  all,  readable."  — 
Church  Quarterly  Review. 

The  Island  World  of  the  Pacific 

BY  HELLEN  B.  MONTGOMERY 
CHRISTUS  REDEMPTOR 

"  For  text-book  purposes  this  volume  is,  on  its  special  subject, 
quite  the  best  with  which  we  are  acquainted."  —  Christian  World. 


UNITED  STUDY  OF  MISSIONS  SERIES  —  Continued 


Africa  BY  ELLEN  C.  PARSONS 


"It  is  difficult  to  imagine  how  a  better  book  for  its  intended 
purpose  could  have  been  prepared."  —  New  York  Observer, 

CHRISTUS  LIBERATOR  —  "  An  earnest  plea  and  a  very  interest- 
ing exposition.  Where  it  finds  its  way,  interest  in  African  Mis- 
sions is  sure  to  be  quickened."  —  London  Quarterly  Review. 

The  Nearer  and  Farther  East 

Outline  Studies  of  Moslem  Islands,  and  of  Siam,  Burma,  and  Korea 

BY  SAMUEL  M.  ZWEMER,  F.R.G.S.,  AND 
ARTHUR  JUDSON  BROWN,  D.D. 

"  Precisely  the  kind  of  book  a  minister  should  have  in  order  to 
give  his  people  information  abundant  and  reliable  for  his  mission 
concerts,  his  collections,  and  for  his  own  stimulation." — Chris- 
tian Intelligencer. 

The  Gospel  in  Latin  Lands 

Outline  Studies  of  Protestant  Work  in  the  Latin  Countries  of  Europe 
and  America 

BY  FRANCIS  E.  CLARK,  D.D.,  LL.D,  AND 
HARRIET  A.  CLARK 

"A  valuable  book,  comprising  in  a  small  compass  data  to 
which  the  ordinary  student  has  had  access."  —  Religious  Tele- 
scope. 

Western  Women  in  Eastern  Lands 

BY  HELEN  BARRETT  MONTGOMERY 

Author  of  "  The  Island  World  of  the  Pacific  " 


THE   MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

Publishers  64-66  Fifth  Avenue  New  Tork 


BY  WALTER  RAUSCHENBUSCH 


Christianity  and  the  Social  Crisis 

8vo,  430  pages,  cloth,  gilt  top,  $1.50  net 

This  book  is  a  discussion  of  the  position  the  church  must  as- 
sume in  the  face  of  the  approaching  social  crisis.  The  first 
chapters  are  historical,  and  set  forth  the  religious  development 
of  the  prophets  of  Israel,  the  life  and  teachings  of  Jesus,  and  the 
dominant  tendencies  of  primitive  Christianity,  in  order  to  ascer- 
tain what  was  the  original  and  fundamental  purpose  of  the  great 
Christian  movement  in  history.  Out  of  this  historical  survey 
grows  the  conclusion  that  the  essential  purpose  of  Christianity 
was  to  transform  human  society  into  the  kingdom  of  God  by  re- 
generating and  reconstituting  all  human  relations.  Successive 
chapters  deal  with  the  reasons  why  the  Christian  church  has 
never  undertaken  to  carry  out  this  fundamental  purpose  of  its 
existence;  the  conditions  which  constitute  the  present  social 
crisis;  the  vital  interest  of  the  church  in  the  social  movement; 
and  the  contributions  which  Christianity  can  make,  and  the  di- 
rections in  which  the  religious  spirit  should  exert  its  force.  In 
his  account  of  social  conditions  and  tendencies,  the  author  has 
drawn  on  his  experience  of  eleven  years  as  a  pastor  among  the 
working  people  of  New  York  City. 

"It  is  of  the  sort  to  make  its  readers  feel  that  the  book  was 
bravely  written  to  free  an  honest  man's  heart;  that  conscientious 
scholarship  and  hard  thinking  have  wrought  it  out  and  enriched 
it;  that  it  is  written  in  a  clear,  incisive  style;  that  stern  passion 
and  gentle  sentiment  stir  at  times  among  the  words,  and  keen 
wit  and  grim  humor  flash  here  and  there  in  the  turn  of  a  sentence. 
It  is  a  book  to  like,  to  learn  from,  and,  though  the  theme  be  sad 
and  serious,  to  be  charmed  with." — N.  Y.  Times. 


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By  Dr.  WALTER   RAUSCHENBUSCH 

(Rochester  Theological  Seminary) ,  Author  of  "  Christianity  and  the 
Social  Crisis  " 

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A  Psychological  Study  of  Religion 

Its  Origin,  Function,  and  Future 
By  JAMES   H.   LEUBA,   Ph.D.  (Bryn  Mawr) 

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of  humanity  through  sympathetic  appreciation  and  understanding 
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Gilbert 

Jesus 

By  GEORGE  HOLLEY  GILBERT,  Ph.D.,  D.D. 

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Jesus  and  the  legendary  Jesus.  A  sane  and  lovable  appreciation." 

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By  SCOTT  NEARING,  Ph.D. 

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and  Social  Progress,"  etc. 

The  most  deplorable  elements  in  the  modern  social  and  indus- 
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By  Dr.  Hillis 

The  Story  of  Phaedrus 

How  We  got  the  Greatest  Book  in  the  World 

By  Dr.  NEWELL  DWIGHT  HILLIS 

"  A  beautiful  idealistic  story  of  how  the  early  Christian  chronicles 
and  books  of  the  New  Testament  were  preserved  through  the  years 
by  the  love  and  labors  of  a  literary  slave." 

Cloth,  $1.25  net 

By  Professor  Vedder 

The  Reformation  in  Germany 

By  HENRY  C.   VEDDER 
Professor  of  Church  History  in  Crozer  Theological  Seminary 

"  One  of  the  most  interesting,  and  for  popular  reading  one  of  the 
most  valuable,  historical  works  of  recent  years  —  clarifying  the  vast 
amount  of  material  which  the  last  twenty  years  have  produced  and 
furnishing  an  interpretation  based  upon  the  economic  causes  of  the 
Reformation.  Professor  Vedder  has  written  a  book  emphatically 
to  read  rather  than  to  consult." 

Cloth,  $3.00  net 

By  Dr.  Buttenwieser 

The  Prophets  of  Israel 

By  MOSES  BUTTENWIESER,  Ph.D. 

"A  luminous  study  of  the  human  side  of  the  literary  Hebrew 
prophets,  presenting  them  as  great  and  tragic  characters  opposing 
inevitable  disaster,  and  showing  that  even  the  strong  men  of  this 
century  are  brought  face  to  face  with  many  questions  similar  to  the 
issues  of  Old  Testament  times." 

Cloth,  $2.00  net 


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Publishers  64-66  Fifth  Avenue  New  Tork 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  AT  LOS  ANGELES 

THE  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below 


1OT  8     1959 

JUN2-1953 

JAN     5  1954 
DEC  1 4 


SEP  2  81 


Form  L-!t 
20m-12, '39(3388) 


or  c 

AT 

LOS  ANGELES 
LIBRARY 


001238226    3 


